


It's this odd little thing (Ron/Draco)

by StoriesbyNessie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Auror Ron Weasley, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Coping, Diagon Alley, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Kissing, Language, M/M, Male Slash, POV Alternating, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Ron Weasley, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Ron Weasley-centric, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2020-11-27 00:30:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20939315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoriesbyNessie/pseuds/StoriesbyNessie
Summary: Two years have passed since the Dark Lord was defeated. Ron lives a peaceful life. He's engaged to Hermione Granger, he's an Auror at the Ministry, he has money... He should be happy. Except that he's not. He's feeling empty, Hermione blames it on seasonal depression.On his day off work while out running errands- he accidentally runs into Draco Malfoy, opening up old wounds...Draco, on the other hand, hasn't had the easiest time after the war. His name carries shame in the wizarding world and he really, really wants to stay as far away from the stubborn Weasley as possible... Or rather, that Weasley should stay away from him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The amazing cover art is by KoraKunkel ^__^

# 

Ron pressed his forehead against the window in the kitchen and sighed. The glass felt cold against his skin and his breath momentarily steamed up a spot on the window. 

Outside, the trees had turned lovely shades of brightly orange, red and yellow. If he stood by the window long enough, he could see the leaves fall from them, lying in random piles on the cold, morning frosty ground. A faint smile went over his features. About now the students at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry would be looking forward to the Halloween Feast and the school would be decked out in pumpkins, candles and various other decorations. And there would be sweets. _ Loads of it. _

A small part of him thought it was unfair he’d already left school and was now too old to attend. He didn’t miss the classes and doing homework but he missed the fun events, like Halloween and Christmas. He missed the food, the sweets, hanging out in the common room and playing Quidditch. And he even missed-- 

No! He couldn’t think about that. He had a good life. The life he was supposed to be living. After being in the shadows of the Chosen one all his life- Ron had done really well for himself. He had a position as an Auror at the Ministry of Magic- a job that might be dangerous but it was paying really well. He finally had money, a feeling he wasn’t used to but was rather proud he was able to afford things now. Plus, the job meant working alongside Harry and who wouldn’t want to work with their best friend? 

Ron also had a girlfriend. He and Hermione had _ finally _ -according to a lot of people- gotten their shit together and was now a happy couple who lived together in a nice flat and who were supposed to get married next year. They had recently gotten engaged- something that Harry and Ron’s little sister Ginny also just had. The two young women insisted on throwing a common engagement party instead of having two separate ones. Ron didn’t understand why an engagement party was necessary in the first place but Hermione’s brown eyes had looked so bright when first mentioning it so he couldn’t say no. He squeezed the shiny silver ring in his right hand. Opening it up, he saw how it glistened in the sunlight of the early morning. Ron hadn’t put it on yet, he didn’t know why. Something was holding him back. It wasn’t that he didn’t _ want _to commit to Hermione and do all that marriage stuff and later on having children. It was how it was supposed to go down, wasn’t it? Ron liked children. He reckoned he wanted one or two for sure. He and Hermione got along really well. They had fun together. It was good for him to have her. He was lucky. She looked out for him, cooked food and managed to keep him somewhat organised. He’d be a mess without her. 

But the truth was- despite his easygoing, peaceful life that really should be a welcome breeze compared to all his school years that was spent with Harry and Hermione coming up with plans and fighting the Dark Lord, Ron wasn’t really happy. Deep down, he knew he wasn’t but he also couldn’t understand or pinpoint what was so wrong. 

Hermione -the forever knowing- called it seasonal depression. It was getting darker and darker out at night and earlier too. 

_ ‘You know how you get sometimes during winter,’ _She had said and provided him with some vitamins that he did not dare tell her didn’t help at all. Even if Ron knew what was causing this emptiness, he knew he couldn’t tell Hermione about it. He loved her, but there were lots of things Hermione just didn’t understand and he thought this sadness counted as one of them. 

Warm arms hugged him from behind, interrupting his train of thoughts and distant, nostalgic Hogwarts memories. Hermione’s soft, brown, frizzy hair tickled his back and he smiled, shoving the ring back into his pocket before turning around to hug her properly and placing a tiny kiss on her forehead. 

“Slept well?” Ron asked, his blue eyes meeting her chocolate brown. 

“Very. You woke up early though. Thought you’d still be sleeping, you don’t have work today,” Hermione smiled, pulling herself out of the embrace and stretching, like a cat. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” Ron shrugged, running his hand through his red hair. “Might later though if I get tired.” 

“Not a chance,” Said Hermione, putting on tea. “I need you to go to London and pick up some things for the party. It’s just a few decorations -I’ve written a list so you don’t get it wrong- and you need to pick up a cake. You haven’t forgotten about the cake-tasting tomorrow, have you?” She shot him a stern look but broke out into a smile almost instantly. 

“Course not. You and Ginny really go full out on this party.” Ron shook his head, leaning against the kitchen counter and watched as Hermione took out two mugs from the cabinet and filled them to the brim with steaming, hot water. 

“I want to get it right,” She smiled, dipping a tea bag each into the mugs. “It hasn’t been easy after the war… We deserve to have some fun, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah.” Ron agreed. It’s been two years since the battle of Hogwarts. Coping with the aftermaths hadn’t been easy on any of them. Many people had been lost in the war, including Ron’s brother. The loss of Fred had been hard on all of them, not least George. Some days were still a struggle and there were still nights Mrs Weasley cried herself to sleep. Ron tried not to think about it too much. He didn’t like to ponder over things that hurt. Fred wouldn’t want them crying all the time. He’d want them to live their lives. Be happy.

“Anyway, would you mind going?” Hermione asked, giving him one of the mugs. 

“No, it might be good for me going out,” said Ron, looking out of the window again. The sky was cloudless and bright blue. “Some fresh air will probably help me feel better.” It was a lie. Ron knew whatever he was feeling couldn’t be helped with air or vitamins. It was like a hole inside of him and it had been there long before Fred died. 

However, it was one of those things he couldn’t talk to Hermione about. 

“I hope so.” Hermione kissed him on the cheek. “I hate seeing you so down. You’ve been like this for weeks now, it’s longer than usual. Have you taken your vitamins? Maybe we should make an appointment with someone--” She glanced at the fridge, where a bunch of numbers were scribbled down on a piece of paper. Hermione had suggested a muggle therapist for Ron about a week ago and had looked up potential ones they could call. 

“I don’t need a therapist, Hermione,” Ron assured her. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. Just focus on the party. I can’t wait to try out cakes tomorrow with Harry and Ginny.” He forced himself to smile widely at her, hoping she wouldn’t notice how false it felt. Considering how she returned his smile, it didn’t look like she did. 

“Okay.” Hermione put down her now empty mug on the counter. “I’m going to get ready for work now. It’s going to be a few busy hours before lunch, I imagine. Hey, let’s meet up for lunch later. I can come to London and we could go to that muggle restaurant you like.” 

Ron nodded. “Yeah, that’d be great.” 

He watched her disappear into their bathroom. Once she was out of eyesight, he let out the breath he didn’t realise he was holding. It felt as though he was putting up an act in front of her. 

***

Ron really liked going into muggle London. He’d been there loads of times, both alone and with Hermione. When he was younger, he used to go with his dad. 

_ ‘Fascinating people they are, muggles’ _ Mr Weasley always said. _ ‘Have you seen that futuristic little machine they’ve got, Ron? A computer, they say. Simply fascinating! Reckon your mum will allow one in the house?’ _ During Christmas last year, Hermione actually had brought a computer to the Burrow and had patiently spent time with Ron’s father to help him figure out how it worked. He’d been mindblown for days. Hermione had installed muggle devices in their flat and they now had a telly and a DeeVeeDee player and a felly-tone among other things. Ron thought it was just as fun as his dad to have all of those. Harry had gifted him a little game device much to Hermione’s disapproval and Ron had worked out how to play a game called _ Super Mario. _He and Harry used to take turns playing during long, boring hours at the Ministry when they had nothing to do. 

London was busy as always. The before cold temperature rose slightly during the morning and Ron was sweating under his coat. He padded between shops in his worn-out trainers, trying to avoid slipping on the wet streets all while following the list Hermione had written. It felt as though it was miles long and he soon carried several bags in his hands. 

Taking the bags in one hand and wiping his sweaty forehead with the other- he began to wonder what he had gotten himself into. Hermione had picked out all kinds of decorations, napkins, multicoloured balloons, tablecloths, garlands, various tiny statues… Merlin, if she wanted this much for an engagement party, how much would she want for a wedding? Women were nutters. Shaking his head, he decided he was going to ask Harry tomorrow if Ginny also had gone this crazy in the planning. He suddenly realised Hermione would probably want him to buy new fancy robes too and he made a face at the thought. Sure, he had more money now, but how much was this going to cost anyway? The prices on robes like that were ridiculous and he didn’t want to spend that much just for one event-- 

Ron checked his watch. Bloody hell, it was almost 11:30. He needed to go pick up that cake now if he was going to make it to the lunch date with Hermione. The bakery should be here around the corner… 

Ten minutes later, he not only carried what felt like a million bags but was also tightly holding a box containing a chocolate cake he admitted he couldn’t wait to try. Ron patiently waited for the red lights to turn green for pedestrians by the crosswalk, wondering slightly if Hermione would notice if he snuck a little bite of the cake when he got home when he suddenly looked across the street and spotted _ him. _Something twitched inside his stomach. It’s been so long Ron first thought he was imagining it. Blinking a few times, he realised he was not. He really was there. 

Seeing Draco Malfoy in the muggle parts of London was a rare sight by itself. But it was just-- _ Fuck. _

Draco looked different. Ron only saw him from afar but he looked tired, worn-out somehow. He seemed to have the decency to dress somewhat muggle before leaving his home and wore a, what looked like an expensive black suit, instead of his usual robes and cloak. His short light hair shone in the daylight and Ron was so surprised seeing him, he felt the box of the delicious chocolate cake slip from his fingers and whipped cream and chocolate splattered everywhere when the cake hit the ground. Ron got some on his trousers and people muttered in an undertone around him in pure annoyance and birds were shrieking, pecking the cake with their beaks in front of him but he didn’t listen nor did he care. He was busy staring down the blond who hadn’t noticed him, his mouth half-open in surprise. Draco looked down on the street, his hands stuck into the pockets of his jacket. 

Ron’s heart was beating fast. He eyed the lights impatiently; it took all his willpower not to run out in the busy street and grab at the other man for all he was worth. It’s been two years. Malfoy had been good at staying out of sight. But today now when Ron finally had a chance- Malfoy wasn’t going anywhere. 

They needed to talk. Ron had been wanting to talk for several _ fucking _years. He never thought he was going to get the chance. Yet the opportunity seemed to be right in front of him now. If he didn’t take it, he might never get this chance again.

The lights turned green. Ron’s vision was almost blurry as he walked out… 

The shopping bags hanging on Ron’s arms almost hit Malfoy’s sides as Ron put his large hands on Draco’s slender arms. 

“What the hell are you--” Draco looked up annoyed and looked like he was ready to hit someone but his grey eyes widened in shock when he stared into Ron’s bright blue. His pale lips formed into an o-shape in surprise before he found himself and scowled. 

“You!” He spat out, trying to yank his arm out of Ron’s grasp but failed. Ron was still stronger than Malfoy.

“Yeah.” Ron’s coppery brows were furrowed in equal annoyance. He wanted to say so much but didn’t know where to begin. His mouth went completely dry. They had stopped in the middle of the crosswalk and were staring at each other for what felt like an eternity until cars started beeping angrily to get them out of the way. Fortunately, Ron came to his senses quickly and pulled Malfoy with him to the safety of the pavement. He held him in a tight grip and continued walking, not caring people were staring at them. 

Malfoy, however, did care and was talking loudly. 

“Weasley, I don’t know what you’ve been smoking lately but I don’t have time for your childish things. Release me you big oaf before I—” 

Ron turned a corner into an empty alley and pressed the other man against the wall with such force something cracked inside one of the bags when they hit the bricks behind Draco. Fuck, he was going to have to mend that. Hopefully, Hermione wouldn’t notice before it was done.

“Shut up!” He hissed angrily, not looking away from Draco’s eyes for even one second. “Calm down, will you? I _ just _want to talk. You owe me that much.” 

Draco sneered. “I don’t owe you anything Wea--” 

“Two years!” Ron said sharply. “And longer than that. Yeah, I believe you do.” 

Draco’s pale face was mere inches away from Ron’s. “No,” He said in a defiant voice. “I don’t. Let me go.”

He ducked under one of Ron’s arms in an effort to slip past. Ron might be stronger than Draco, but he had always been faster. 

Ron couldn’t think straight. He almost felt dizzy.

“Dammit, Malfoy! You broke up with me!” He yelled to the blond’s back. “I deserve answers! You broke my heart!” 

Draco’s body tensed. He turned around, looking furiously at Ron. A faint pink colour formed on his cheeks, his mouth in a firm, tight line. He pointed angrily at the redhead and was about to answer something when a loud voice broke the tense silence:

“Oi, Mike! Have you seen this? There are two fags hiding in here! What d’you reckon they’re up to?” 

A muggle teenager, tall and lanky with dark hair and a nasty expression on his angular face, was waving his friend towards the empty alley were Ron and Draco stood. Shit, they must’ve overheard Ron’s yelling… Draco spun around yet again, scowling at the boys in front of them while Ron could do nothing but stare. The one called Mike had now caught up with the other one, along with two more appearing behind them. The air grew thin and threatening. 

“Excuse me?” Draco’s voice cut through the silence. 

“Shut it, _ fag,” _ The dark-haired one replied, he and the others getting closer. Ron pushed his back against the brick wall as hard as he could while Draco, unafraid, took a few steps closer to the boys. 

“Fag?” He repeated in a mocking tone. “Is that the only word you know? Don’t you get a proper education at the muggle school?”

“Malfoy…” Ron tried, this could only end badly. 

“Muggle?” The teenager asked, his friends sniggering. “What the hell are you talking about you freak?” 

“Do you know what we do to _ fags?” _ Another teenager spoke up, grinning maliciously. He punched his right fist into his open left hand to show _ exactly _what they were doing with them. 

Ron swallowed hard. His heart was about to knock its way out of his chest and his pulse pounded in his reddening ears. Yeah, this was going to end badly. They were four, all of them tall and threatening. While Ron also was tall and definitely just as strong, if not stronger, they were outnumbered. 

“We don’t like your sort, mate,” Another one of them now said, his dark green eyes boring into both of them. He eyed Ron a little extra, with an amused look. “Have you seen this, lads? It’s a fucking ginger too!” 

“My sort? You bloody simpleton, I happen to be a pur--” 

“They don’t know what that is, Malfoy! Look, we don’t want trouble, ” Ron said, interrupting Draco before he could say something else; his hands were in the air as if he was trying to prevent a wild animal from attacking. 

“We don’t like gingers or fags,” The dark-haired finished, shoving Malfoy so he wobbled towards Ron. 

“We’ll go peacefully, nothing has to happen,” Said Ron again, trying to negotiate in his most calm voice and hoped it wouldn’t be noticeable that it was slightly shaking. He took Draco by his shoulders and attempted to push past the four boys. He’d been standing eye to eye with the Dark Lord, destroyed horcruxes and faced giant spiders the size of a car and he was an Auror for Merlin’s sake, yet he still felt uneasy in this very situation. Mainly because it was so sudden and he didn’t know how he should react. 

“Nah, I don’t think so mate,” The dark-haired one said. Then everything happened fast. The teenager pushed Ron and it must’ve been hard, cause he toppled over and suddenly sat on the ground. Draco yelled something and reached for his inside pocket and Ron, fearing he’d pull out his wand, rose to his feet almost instantly. Draco couldn’t do magic out here, he’d have to obliviate them afterwards and Ron didn’t feel like it. There would be consequences and he’d have to explain his actions once he was back at work let alone face the merciless wrath of Hermione Granger back home and Ron avoided it as much as he could. And the fucking paperwork that surely would follow. 

No this needed to go down the non-magic way. 

Adrenaline kicked in as Ron lunged forward, punched the dark-haired one in the face, ignoring the intense pain. He was still holding his shopping in one hand and he aimed it at the other teenagers, hoping the tiny little statues Hermione wanted him to buy was hard enough to cause pain. It felt immature beating up a bunch of kids but the situation had gotten out of hand. He only fought to get out of the alley, Ron wasn’t a really a fighter, not anymore, he just wanted to get out of here peacefully for fuck's sake! 

“RUN!” Ron bellowed to Draco, hoping he’d catch on and just _ do it. _The teenagers screamed in rage, hands grabbing at him but Ron didn’t look back. He ran and ran, out of the alley, past people on the streets, over crosswalks without waiting for the light to turn, almost getting hit by cars and ran and ran and ran until he was completely out of breath. He reached a park, orange, red and yellow trees welcoming him. Ron looked over his shoulder; the teenagers weren’t following him anymore. He ran until he reached a bench- first then he allowed himself to stop and slump onto it. His head was in his hands and he panted heavily. His lungs and heart hurt from the running and his breathing was shallow, coming out in short puffs. He tried taking as deep breaths as he dared to slow his heart rate down to normal. Ron’s arms, back and face ached; they must’ve gotten some punches in on him too, only at that moment he hadn’t felt it. His red hair stuck to his temples by sweat and his clothes were dirty. A few items in the bags had broken; he would need to fix that before Hermione noticed. Otherwise, she’d be brutal no matter what. 

“Fuck!” Ron exclaimed loudly, rubbing at his aching head. 

“You shouldn’t be so loud when talking Weasley, see where that gets you?” Draco had caught up, panting hard too. He sat down next to Ron, leaning back and tilting up his head. 

“They were just boys Draco… And we beat them up,” Ron realised with horror. _ Double-fuck. _That wasn’t good. “D’you think they’re gonna call the police on us?”

“What’s the police?”

Ron sighed. “Like muggle Aurors.” 

Draco gave him a look Ron couldn’t quite figure out what it meant. “They’re not gonna find us, Weasley. We’re in completely different worlds.” 

“Hopefully not… ” Ron shook his head.

“Can’t believe how rude they were,” Said Draco angrily. “Nasty little buggers. Why’d you hit them anyway?!” 

“You were about to pull out your fucking wand!” Ron interjected, looking fiercely around to make sure no one heard them. “I panicked! Have you any idea what trouble that could cause us? What that could cause _ me?!” _

“Weasley you ingrate--”

“No,” Ron said. “You were the one going on about being pure-blood and them being muggles, you should’ve just shut up!” 

“Me?!” Draco spat back. “We haven’t seen each other for years and the first thing you bring up is our _ fucking _relationship! And for others to hear too!” He gestured to the open space around them to illustrate his point. “Look what happened! We broke up Weasley, it was ages ago, just deal!” Draco fumbled with something in the pocket of his jacket and soon fished out a pack of cigarettes. It was slightly crushed. Opening it up -Ron noticed it was brand new- he put a cigarette to his mouth and lighted up with -what Ron also noticed- was a regular muggle lighter. Ron watched him with interest out of the corner of his eye- he was almost impressed. 

“You still do that?” He asked in a lowered voice. “Thought you’d quit. Said it was disgusting, remember?” A small smile formed on his lips. 

“It is,” Draco drawled. “But it’s also highly addictive. You should know. You started it.” 

“Taught you how to work the lighter and everything,” Ron continued almost proudly. “But I also stopped. It really is fucking disgusting, those muggle things. They’re gonna kill you eventually.” 

Draco sniffed. “Everything could kill me, Weasley.” A faint wind blew through his light blond hair and he squinted at the sunlight.

“Look, I just want to talk,” Ron said again, staring down on his hands resting on his knees. “That’s all I’m asking. I’ve been wanting to for years, but you’ve been so… distant.” 

“Course I have! The name Malfoy isn’t exactly popular right now, in case you haven’t understood that, _ Weasley.” _Draco emphasised Ron’s name in mild irritation, “Or have you already forgotten this?” He rolled up his sleeve, the faint Death Mark still there on the skin of his left forearm. Ron’s eyes widened at the sight, bringing back repressed memories of the war. Screams, Fred, the torturing of Hermione in the Malfoy manor, Fred, Draco’s cold eyes, Harry, the running away in the forest, how Ron felt like everything was falling apart… 

“You’re more than that,” He finally said, pushing the memories back and looking away. Times were different now, everything wasn’t the same anymore. 

“Lovely,” Draco replied coolly. 

“Don’t.” 

Draco drew hard on the cigarette. “I don’t know what you want with me. You have Granger now. That’s all you’ve ever wanted, isn’t it?” 

“I told you, _I want to talk,”_ Ron managed between gritted teeth. God, he must’ve forgotten what a prick Draco could be. How he now could forget, before… Everything, Ron despised him like there was no tomorrow. “Don’t mention her, you’ve no right to--” 

“Well, I don’t!” Draco hissed. “I don’t know why I’m still here. I only went in here because I wanted these.” He waved the pack of cigarettes in front of Ron’s face. He stood up and brushed grey dust off his clothes.

Ron grabbed his arm. He began feeling exasperated. “Don’t you dare run off. You owe me. You owed me for years. You broke my heart, Draco. Is it so bad that I want some bloody answers?!” 

Draco looked down at Ron, almost livid. “You know why, you stupid man! It was for your own fucking good, that’s what! Now leave me alone and go live your life with your perfect little girlfriend and your perfect little friends! Don’t you dare approach me again and I haven’t forgotten about those awful letters you sent me last year! I’ve burnt them. You mean nothing to me Weasley and what we had was nothing! You’re too stubborn for your own good, love. That’s your damn problem!” 

They both flinched at the sudden use of the sweet nickname escaping Draco’s mouth. Draco acted as though it hadn’t slipped out at all, but Ron saw the faint blushing on his cheeks. He straightened his clothing and walked away before Ron could stop him. Ron wasn’t sure he wanted to stop him anymore. 

_ Bollocks. _He kicked something invisible; the anger made him shudder. It was only Draco Malfoy who could get him this riled up and shaken, almost by only showing himself. Ron let out a deep sigh, putting his head in his hands again and rocking slightly from side to side, despondent. He checked the watch and groaned, realising he was forty-five minutes late to the lunch with Hermione. 

Bloody fucking hell. He was going to have to explain some things to her. Why he was late and bruised for one. He’d been so busy trying to get something out of Malfoy he only now realised his knuckles on the hand he’d punched the kid with was swollen and bloody and hurt like hell. 

Ron wasn’t sure what hurt the most though. His hand or Draco’s harsh words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So! I hope you like the first chapter! Honestly, I've been wanting to write a Dron-story where they are adults for the longest time!


	2. Chapter 2

_ Hogwarts 1995 _

As Draco Malfoy plodded through the thick snow, he came to the conclusion that he -more than anything- hated all Weasleys  _ and  _ Potter with passion. Couldn’t they take a bloody joke?! 

_ ‘Weasley is our king’  _ was a funny song dammit and Ron Weasley really was a poor Keeper and in a double-sense too. Draco snorted. 

The lyrics along with a rather catchy tune had taken two hours to write and after ten minutes all Slytherins knew it by heart. Matching badges worn by almost everybody in his house had been made and the look on Ron’s face when they premiered the song during the last Quidditch match had been priceless. He’d almost been close to tears and it was hilarious. What a freak he was. They all were. 

Then of course, afterwards, Draco couldn’t resist asking the stupid Scarhead what he thought of his clever little ditty causing Potter and those disgusting Weasley twins Draco really couldn’t remember the names of completely lashing out on him. It was beyond rude and as satisfying as it was that Potter and the twins now were kicked off the Quidditch team because of it- it wasn’t nearly enough as Draco was still in a foul mood after the damage they’d caused him. He had some nasty bruises and was longing for some revenge. 

Draco had, therefore, been roaming the castle for a while looking for someone to harass but as he had found no one, he’d taken to search the grounds. He pulled his cloak tighter around him and squinted into the darkness. It was late and undoubtedly most students were hanging around in their common rooms right now. Draco sighed loudly, white steam coming out of his mouth. The cold air pinched his cheeks and felt rough and dry inside his nostrils with each inhale; it was almost too cold to be outside. 

Draco was about to turn on his heel and head back to the castle and possibly plot something cruel once back in the Slytherin dungeons, when a suspicious activity down by the Black Lake caught his attention. Leaning against the thick trunk of a large tree with naked, long, intimidating branches, was a figure Draco couldn’t quite make out. It was too dark to see any details no matter how much he squinted. His stomach quivered with that well known excitement he always felt whenever something nasty was about to happen. Draco took a few tentative steps forward. Surely, it must be a student. A teacher wouldn’t be out hanging around like that, would they? It certainly wasn’t some kind of monster loose from the Forbidden Forest, either. The figure was also far too small to be the groundskeeper, Hagrid or whatever. 

_ What the hell was going on?  _

The area was open and offered few places to hide. Not that Draco wanted to. Being a Malfoy, he was practically superior to everybody in this dreadful place they dared call a school.

Deciding the mysterious one probably wasn’t somebody dangerous, Draco sauntered over with a smug smile across his features. This was almost too perfect. 

Perhaps this night wouldn’t be so boring after all. 

The figure was doing something peculiar. Slowly getting closer to the tree, Draco noticed a weird smell, like smoke but not from the fireplace like he was used to. This type of smoke smelled sort of  _ acrid _ , sharp and with a slightly sour note. Like burning leaves but not quite like it either. Whatever it was, it was completely disgusting and was an unpleasant invasion to his nostrils. 

_ ‘Lumos!’  _ Draco muttered to his wand, holding it in a firm grip in his right hand. The figure hadn’t heard him approaching. The thick tree was the only thing between them now and Draco turned to face the figure, wand up and a triumphant look on his illuminated face. 

“Bloody hell!” The figure exclaimed, startled. 

“Weasley?” 

Draco’s tone was surprised and he scolded himself mentally for it. He had intended to sound redoubtable or accusing or angry or something. The lightened tip of his wand pointed straight in Ron’s ghost-white, freckled face, his blue eyes wide and glowing. 

Draco’s grey eyes wandered from Ron’s face down to his hand, where he was holding some kind of white stick with an orange end. The tip was lit, white smoke coming out from it and the smell was strong and absolutely infuriating. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” Draco demanded to know, his voice finally sharp again. He couldn’t help he was curious, too, no matter how disgusting it was. Next to Ron’s other side, half-buried in the snow, was a bottle of Firewhisky.  _ That little shit.  _

“Leave, Malfoy!” Ron snarled, glowering. 

“No,” Draco said calmly, grinning maliciously. “You’re up to something Weasley. All alone out here drinking and…” He eyed the small white-orange stick, “Doing whatever it is you do. I should have you reported.” 

“Then I’ll just tell them the way it is. I confiscated them from a couple of fourth years.” Ron pointed to the Prefect’s badge attached to his robes. Both he and Draco had been made prefects during the start of the school year. While it was beyond Draco how someone like Weasel could be made a prefect and get actual responsibilities, he apparently was made one along with the disgusting Mudblood Granger. But at the end of the day, he still was a pathetic Weasley and Draco was a Malfoy. This new title of his didn’t matter. 

Draco cocked his head.

“You do realise Umbridge wouldn’t believe you, right? It would be your word against mine, Weasley and I think I know who has the advantage here. Do _ you _ ?” His tone was mocking, patiently awaiting the Weasley boy’s response. 

None came. 

Draco took another small step forward, getting a little closer. He noticed how Ron seemed freaked out by this, the redhead pushed himself against the bark of the tree so hard it must have hurt. It entertained him. Ron was the taller between the too, but Draco felt like a giant in front of him. He almost imagined crushing Weasley’s annoying freckled face under his foot like a beetle. 

“Well, do you?” 

More silence. Ron gnawed on his chapped lip. 

“That’s what I thought.”

“No,” Ron suddenly said, finding his voice and sounding more confident. “You don’t get to push me around anymore, Malfoy. You’ve done enough damage as it is. If you tell her--” He pointed up to the castle, “I’ll do something much worse to you.” 

“Please,” Draco snorted, “You don’t have the imagination nor the brains to do anything. No, I decide what’s what here. You’ve clearly been using these…” He wrinkled his nose in disgust, gaze and wand roaming over the bottle and the cigarette again, which Ron now had recklessly tossed on the ground, “I reckon those alone would be about fifty points off from Gryffindor… And then you’ve threatened me just now… I’m sure Umbridge would love to take off another fifty points for that and physical assault…” Draco’s cold grey eyes grew large and doe-like as he took on a theatrically dramatic and serious expression,  _ “Professor, Weasley’s deranged, he attacked me for no reason…He’s been drinking too, it was really scary Professor, Weasley’s gone completely mental, I don’t know what’s gotten into him…”  _ Draco smirked evilly. ”Maybe you’ll be expelled. What would your fat pig mother say about that, hmm? Bringing shame on your whole wretched family. Not that you had much of pride to spare before… Or, if not expelled…” Draco mused, momentarily looking up in the starry sky, ”maybe you’ll be banned from Quidditch just like Potter and your brothers. Would make no difference to the team really, since you  _ can’t play.” _

Predictably, Weasley scowled and then Draco felt large hands gripping the thick black fabric of his cloak. Draco felt his feet lose contact with the snowy ground a tiny bit; Ron almost lifted him in his rage. Ron’s cheeks and ears were burning red in the light of Draco’s wand and his voice shook with tension. 

“Fuck you,” He bit out angrily. “What have I  _ ever  _ done to you?! You destroy my life over and over, you destroy Harry’s and Hermione’s…  _ Everybodys!  _ I’m so sick and tired of your shit! Why. Can’t. You. Just. Leave. Me. Alone!” Ron punctuated every word by shaking Draco fiercely back and forth, his wand rolled away and all he could see was darkness; Weasley’s face was like a black shadow in front of him. A very annoying shadow. The red-haired boy was so angry heat practically radiated from his body. 

“Let me go, Weasley!” Draco shouted. Fucking Weasley had no right to touch him or be so incredibly rude. He wasn’t so damn innocent anyway, the trollish simpleton had tried to hex him second year for Salazar’s sake! Not to mention the nasty comments that sometimes escaped his mouth whenever Draco was around. He wriggled out of his grasp, making himself as slippery and difficult as possible so Ron wouldn’t be able to hold on. After a few moments of struggle, he dropped onto the ground, feeling the wetness of the snow in the back of his neck, his back, legs and arms. Or, Draco would have felt it, if he by this point wasn’t absolutely livid too. He sneered, although Ron couldn’t see it. 

“Like I said, physical assault…” Draco said, voice dangerously poisonous as he got up to his feet. “What is the deal with you Gryffindors and your obsession of touching other people? Or is it just something Weasleys do? That would explain a lot, actually. Taught Potter that too, didn’t you? You absolute--” 

“Shut up!” Ron growled. Draco could almost hear his teeth gnashing. “Shut up!”

“The hell I am!” Draco spat. “I’m reporting you. You’ll be tossed out of here before daylight, mark my words. Your disgusting brothers will be tossed out too, you just wait. Serves all of you right, don’t you dare touch me again Weasley. I don’t want diseases.” 

Draco began walking away, but Ron tackled him to the ground, absolutely furious. 

“IS IT NEVER ENOUGH FOR YOU?!” Ron yelled, pinning Draco to the cold ground. He held his wrists in a firm grip, nails digging into Draco’s sensitive skin. Draco squirmed and kicked, trying to break free. He cursed at how much stronger Ron was compared to him; it just wasn’t fair. 

Ron had lost it completely, roaring about the Quidditch team, Draco’s song, how he didn’t care about being expelled, he just wanted to kill Draco… They struggled, both boys trying their hardest to get a few kicks and punches in. Draco wasn’t really a fighter, he’d rather hex someone, but Ron had tossed away his wand and Draco wasn’t given any chance retrieving it; Weasley was fucking everywhere with his disgusting hands and feet and pain shot through Draco’s body as he was hit again and again. At some point he miraculously managed to kick Ron, causing him to topple over, both of them rolling around in the cold, wet snow, growling like ferocious animals. 

“You just wait until my father hears about this!” Draco got a grip of Ron’s red, vivid hair, pulling at it as hard as he could. Ron yelped in pain, throwing snow in Draco’s face to distract him. He punched him, Draco flew backwards onto the ground. He kicked Ron aimlessly in what he was hoping was a very sensitive area, like his stomach or a little below that. Ron soon was atop Draco again; this time on his back. The blond’s face was forced into the snow and it looked like there would be the end to it if Ron’s whole body suddenly hadn’t jerked backwards. The redhead seemed startled by something and as Draco looked up, blinking away the snow that fogged his grey eyes, he caught sight of movements further ahead. 

_ “Fuck!” _ Weasley hissed, in a matter of seconds he was behind the large and broad tree, hiding and eyes comically wide. Or Draco imagined they were, he couldn’t really see much. However, he spotted the lit wands of their teachers up the path, too, and before he could think better of it- he too was hiding behind the tree. 

They both watched in silence as the little group of teachers walked by. Draco recognised Professor Umbridge among them, her pink outfit standing out like a sore thumb among the other teachers darker and toned down colour schemes. The mere sight of her was enough to put his teeth on edge. Draco peered as much as he dared from behind the tree, hiding away when needed to not be seen. 

Weasley was right there, too close. Draco could feel his warm breath on the nape of his neck from where he stood. He scowled at him, shoving him a little with his elbow to make him move. The teachers talked in hushed voices, from the light of their illuminated wands Draco could, apart from Umbridge, make out Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall. 

“As I said before,  _ Dolores,  _ I assure you no students are out. It’s simply too cold,” McGonagall said, her voice strained. 

“We never know what the children are up to,” Umbridge replied in the high-pitched squeak of hers. “The Ministry only wants what is best for them and as a member, I want to be absolutely certain that everyone is…  _ safe  _ and obedient _ .”  _

“Then perhaps may I suggest patrolling inside the castle?” Professor Snape was heard, his tone oily. “If there are to be any mischiefs I would assume they would take place between the walls of the castle instead of out in the dark and cold where one cannot possibly survive for long…” 

They continued talking in low voices and Draco held his breath. After what felt like an eternity, the teachers finally,  _ finally  _ walked back to the castle again. Draco realised he had been sweating and shivered slightly as the cold wet from the snow reminded him of the fight that had taken place earlier. 

“Merlin, that was close…” Ron’s voice.

“God, I hate her,” Draco muttered, peering from behind the tree again to make sure they were really going so he didn’t have to hide anymore and stand this close to the freakish redhead. 

After making sure it was safe, he picked up his wand from the ground and muttered the  _ Lumos  _ spell again so they could see. 

That was when he noticed how confused Ron looked. His bright blue eyes were as big as saucers, eyeing Draco carefully. 

“Who?”

Draco ignored him. Ron bit his lip again. His nose was swollen, blood coming out of one nostril. The sight made Draco take off his glove and reach for his own nose, checking for blood, too. He didn’t find anything. Something throbbed and ached near his left eye though, dammit if Weasley had given him a black eye… 

“Ugh, tilt your head up Weasley, you’re bleeding,” Draco pointed out, rolling his eyes, ignoring the felt pain at the movement.

“Why didn’t you tell on me?” Ron asked, leaning against the trunk of the tree. “You had your chance, didn’t you? Why didn’t you take it?” 

Draco realised he didn’t really know. He had reacted on the pure instinct to hide -just like Ron- instead of facing the professors. With Umbridge present, he could’ve easily wormed his way out of punishment for being out after curfew when he did not have prefect duties. Ron could have taken the downfall entirely by himself. They’d been fighting too, he could have easily made it look like Ron had lost his damn mind.

However… It would have been rather troublesome if they started asking  _ why  _ he was out this late. 

Ron’s eyes flickered uncertainly in the light of Draco’s wand. Draco shrugged. 

“I would have to explain myself, wouldn’t I? Not really keen on putting up with Umbridge tonight.” 

Ron snorted. “Five minutes ago you would have been happy to do it.”

Draco’s cold grey eyes bore into Ron threateningly. “Don’t be so smug Weasley. And for Merlin’s sake, tilt your damn head up!” He shoved him; Ron kicked him weakly in response but he finally did as Draco said. Draco secretly wished he had a mirror, he wondered what damage Ron had done to him. They were quiet for a while, neither of them seeming keen to move.

Draco suddenly remembered the much forgotten bottle of Firewhisky that had produced this fight. Draco looked at Ron again as he got a rather wicked idea. 

“All right, I won’t report you this time…” He said quietly, more to the tree he was still facing than to Ron. “ _ If  _ you give me your Firewhisky.” 

Ron shook his head. “No, it’s mine, I found it.” He said a little too defensively and Draco’s mood soured. 

“Do you want to be expelled or go down the same path as your precious Potter? Gryffindor barely has a team now--” 

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?!” Ron spat angrily, glaring. “You ruin everyone’s life, what makes you think I would want to…” He bit his now slightly swollen lip furiously again. “I came out here to be alone. But of course, you have to be here too. You are fucking everywhere! If getting expelled means getting away from you then I’d be more than happy to be so.” 

“Fine.” Draco picked up the bottle. By no means he was intending to let Weasley have his way. He calmly brushed away the snow from it with his index finger. “Have it your way. I’m sure Umbridge would love to hear everything about how I found you  _ and  _ Potter illegally drinking and how wasted you were. How I simply tried to talk some sense into you but then you lashed out on me for no reason…” Draco arched a delicate pale eyebrow, glancing meaningfully at the flushing Ron. “Hope both of you will enjoy your train ride back to London.” 

Draco walked away, fully prepared Ron was going to flip his shit again, bottle in his hand and a tense feeling of anticipation in his slender body. However, the awaited blow never came. Instead, Ron groaned loudly.

“FINE!” He ground out. “Fine! But we’ll  _ share _ .” Draco could hear how strained the redhead’s voice was. Naturally, he knew this would hit close to home for Weasley. Bringing up Potter always did. He glanced at him from over his shoulder. Ron looked at him defiantly although his gaze held a certain nervousness too, as if he was afraid he’d ‘suggested’ (in a very uncivilized way) that they’d share. Draco put his tongue to the inside of his cheek, thinking it over. 

“All right. But don’t you dare breathe a thing about this to anyone or--” 

“Trust me Malfoy, I won’t.” 

Moments later, they were passing the bottle between them in the darkness of the night. First quietly, a harsh tension still hanging in the air around them. Then, after the Firewhisky worked its magic- they both found themselves not only braver but also more tolerant and cheerful. Their breaths steamed around them but after some more liquor and a couple of heating charms, they could no longer feel the cold and wet from the snow. Ron’s nose had stopped bleeding, but he snickered a little when he pointed out that Draco  _ did  _ have a black eye and intelligently told him how stupid he looked with it. The alcohol made Draco fuzzily pleased with everything around him; even Weasley wasn’t that annoying anymore. He snickered too, nudging the other boy playfully by his shoulder in response. Getting wasted might just have been what he needed. 

Ron fumbled with a pack containing some more of those white-orange sticks he’d seen him smoke before. Draco felt his curiosity taking over, eyeing with interest as Ron lit up.

“What’s that?” 

“They’re called cigarettes. Funny little muggle things they are. Taste like shit though. Want to try?” He held out the pack to Draco, who eagerly took one before he could think the better of it and remember that he usually didn’t touch filthy muggle things. He reached for his wand to light it up, but Ron stopped him. 

“No, no, muggle things, remember? Use this.” Weasley reached for something inside his robes and fished out a peculiar little device of some sort. It was black and bright orange, with a little metallic wheel and a button. Ron pressed his thumb against the small silvery wheel, pushing it backwards and pressing down the button in one swift motion. The device made a fizzling sound and soon a small yellow flame appeared. Draco’s eyes grew large. He had never seen anything like it ever before and it frightened him. 

“It’s called a lighter,” Ron said in an amused tone, leering at him.  _ Bollocks _ . He must have seen Draco flinch but said nothing. “Use it to light the cigarette. Go on, try.” 

“No, thank you.” 

“Why, not scared are you?” Ron teased. Draco might be drunk but it still annoyed him hearing the smugness in Ron’s voice and how he clearly basked in the glory of knowing something Draco didn’t. 

“Of course not,” Draco said defensively. “I just don’t feel like burning my fingers off.” 

“You won’t.” 

Draco scowled at him and lit up with his wand instead. In the corner of his eye, he could see Ron grinning, his cheeks pink and his eyes bright. He chucked the lighter back into his pocket. 

“Twat.” 

It really did taste like shit. Draco coughed as the smoke went down his lungs in a too deep inhale. It burnt down his throat, tearing up his eyes. Weasley laughed so much he almost fell over. 

“Is this dangerous?” Draco’s voice was hoarse as he painfully sought out air after another coughing fit, standing on all fours in the snow. 

“It’s addictive, yeah,” Ron managed between laughs. “See this little warning sign?” He pointed on a text in front of the cigarette pack, written in all capitals and in a bold type. “It tells you can get diseases. So yeah, reckon it’s dangerous somehow.” He drew on his own cigarette, apparently unaffected by the strong smoke invading his lungs. Draco watched him intently. 

“How long have you done that for?” He wanted to know. 

Ron shrugged. “Dunno. Some time. Not often though. Just when I need some time for myself. It’s soothing, but you wouldn’t know now. You’re drunk.” 

Draco scoffed. He’d never imagined the sort of innocent Gryffindor being someone who’d smoke. It was interesting, to say the least. 

He would never admit to it sober, but this was…  _ fun.  _ Draco’s usual idea of entertainment was tormenting others until they started to cry, coming up with nasty little jokes and plot evil things together with his Slytherin mates. This was something else. It felt lighthearted and…  _ real _ somehow. Like he didn’t have to do anything, prove himself or put up a pristine facade. Weasley wasn’t expecting him to. 

In a weird way, Draco found that he very nearly enjoyed himself in the redhead’s company. The alcohol left him warm and dizzy, the more he poured down his throat, the more he couldn’t stop smiling. They talked, although it was very shallow, not really touching anything particular or too personal. For a few hours tonight, they forgot who they were, both to themselves and each other. Their animosity was temporarily gone, no matter how strange it was. 

Draco made a snow angel. Ron threw a snowball in his face. Draco threw one back, hitting Ron in the head. They fought playfully for a while under the stars and Ron chased Draco by the shore for a couple of minutes until he called they should stop. 

“I’m gonna be sick,” He panted, bending over, his hands on his knees. Draco swayed on the spot, laughing as he suddenly imagined how comical it would look if he pushed Ron right now. 

Ron did not get sick. Standing up straight again, he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. His breath came out in short puffs. 

“Y-you know what we should do?” He said, swaying too. In fact, he almost fell over by himself without Draco’s ‘help’. “We should eat.” 

“YES!” Draco exclaimed happily, his arms high in the air. Eating was a good, healthy thing. Draco wasn’t usually someone who thought anything particular about food, as long as the house elves cooked it right and it wasn’t too fattening, he didn’t care in the slightest. Right now though, it felt like he could eat anything, he was so bloody hungry. He’d never been this hungry ever before in his whole life. He could eat a horse. He wanted chips and ice cream and sandwiches and-- 

“I’m so hungry…” Ron said, his eyes longingly looking up to the castle. 

“Me too!” Draco almost jogged beside him to keep up with Weasley’s long legs. 

“I reckon we should sneak inside the kitchens,” Ron stated in a tone that clearly indicated that the kitchens at Hogwarts were the most sacred place in the entire Wizarding world. His eyes gleamed. “I know how we can get in.” 

Draco snorted. “Of course you do.” He’d seen Weasley at the meals in the Great Hall. Was it something he was good at, it was shoving food into his large mouth. It never stopped. 

Draco sometimes wondered if he was bottomless. It never showed either. 

“Okay, shut up now,” Ron whispered as he opened the heavy entrance door a crack. Peering inside to make sure it was safe, he beckoned Draco to follow along. 

The Entrance Hall was dimly lit and empty; not a soul was in sight. They tip-toed, sneaking as silently as they could. The anticipation was high, Draco had to stifle several giggles as Ron sometimes halted, looking around, craning his neck and listening for sounds like a cat on nightly hunting. 

They entered another door and soon descended the stairs down to the basement. They walked through a rather broad corridor with bright, food-themed paintings that only made Draco hungrier. They couldn’t stop silently laughing as Ron tickled a pear on one of the paintings that were lying in a bowl of various other fruits. It giggled and soon turned into a green door handle. Ron pushed it open…

“Welcome to the kitchens!” The redhead declared importantly as they went inside. In the bright yellowish-orange light from the large fireplace lighting up the room, Draco noticed how flushed Ron’s cheeks were and he wondered if he also looked like that. Like he was  _ alive. _

Ron’s blue eyes sparkled. “Finally,” The redhead breathed with all of the excitement of a first year before sorting.

Draco looked around, taking in the surroundings. The room was enormous with high ceilings and five tables identical to the ones in the Great Hall. They were in the same position too. That was interesting. Pots and pans were scattered around on the many countertops and stoves and the only light came from the fireplace he’d spotted earlier. He also noticed the large, curious eyes of the many house elves following them quietly with every step. Ron moved across the room as if he’d been there before (at least Draco assumed he had), winking at the staring eyes. 

“Shush,” He said in a soft voice, pointing to them as he walked by. “You’ve seen nothing. We’re hungry, that’s all…”

Then he tossed Draco a sandwich, which he caught gracefully or so he thought until Ron snorted. 

_ “So good…” _ Ron said, chewing on his turkey and mustard sandwich with his mouth open and Draco glared. Drunk or sober, Weasley had no manners whatsoever. Ron didn’t seem to take notice, happily stuffing his face to his heart's content. 

When the first sandwich was eaten, they ate another one, downing it all with ice-cold pumpkin juice which Draco thought in this very moment was the greatest thing he’d ever drunk in his whole life. They helped themselves to some cookies and sweets too. Draco found them chips and ice-cream, giving in to his drunken cravings. Everything was rather glorious and Draco almost forgot they weren’t exactly alone in the kitchens. In their drunken haze, they hadn’t noticed a few house elves leaving the kitchens only to come back with--

“MR WEASLEY! MR MALFOY!” 

Snape’s roaring voice echoed against the walls and both boys jumped at the sudden sounds. The professor’s dark eyes were wild, his mouth tight in a thin line. Behind him was a startled house elf, crouching as if to hide. 

“Bloody hell…” Ron muttered quietly. 

Draco gasped. “Professor! We-we were just--” 

“Quiet!” Snape yelled. “I don’t care what you were doing, no students are allowed in the kitchens! My office, NOW!” He glared at them. 

Snape’s eyes kept shooting daggers at both of them inside his office. He sat in his desk chair, his arms tightly folded over his chest. Everything was silent as he kept staring at them. Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying and failing to look like he didn’t care. Ron coughed lightly, ears going red. Blue eyes staring down at his own knees, a long finger poking inside a tiny hole in his trousers just above one of them. 

“Do you have any idea how  _ ridiculous  _ you two look right now?” Snape asked in a sharp tone. “I expected this kind of behaviour from Potter and friends…” He added, looking sourly at Ron, “But not from the students of my own house, Mr Malfoy.” 

“Professor, I--” 

“I did not ask for your opinion, Mr Weasley.” 

He held up a mirror to them and Draco almost winced seeing his own reflection. The state of his short, white-blond hair was a complete disaster, his left eye was bruised purple and sore, mouth red and cheeks pink. Ron didn’t look any better, wild red hair in disarray and dried blood under one nostril. Overall, his nose was rather swollen and he had a tiny gash on his bottom lip. 

“Don’t you dare think for a second that I’m not aware you two also have been drinking!” Snape said, putting the mirror down so fast cool air almost blew in their faces. His black bushy brows were furrowed and the professor was beyond angry. 

Draco’s stomach twitched unpleasantly. What the hell would happen now?! He’d never been caught drinking before but it was definitely on the list of things that was very much forbidden at Hogwarts. What would the punishment be? Expulsion? He couldn’t have that! He was a Malfoy for Merlin’s sake- what would his father say?! 

Draco’s heart pounded madly in his chest. It pounded so wildly it hurt. 

“What do you have to say for yourselves?!” Snape demanded, his eyes going from one sheepish-looking boy to the other. 

Draco sucked in a breath through his nose. His reputation couldn’t afford him getting expelled- if that was the case.

“It was Weasley, sir,” He said calmly, suddenly feeling very sober. “I caught him drinking on the grounds see and I simply advised him not to. I know it’s forbidden. I tried taking the bottle away from him and hand it straight to Mr Filch but Weasley got absolutely mad all of a sudden and before I knew it- he knocked me to the ground and started to beat me. Then…” Draco looked into Professor Snape’s dark eyes with his own grey; his expression serious. “He went on how he wanted to punish me, saying I simply  _ had  _ to drink the whole bottle and take the blame for it or he would beat me again. I think he has a problem, sir…” 

All blood drained from Ron’s face as he gaped at Draco in utter shock. 

“You can’t be serious! That’s not- That’s not true! Professor?!” He turned to professor Snape, absolutely bewildered. Draco’s grey eyes gleamed with malice, eyeing the redhead. 

Snape’s thin mouth curved into a slow, mean smile. Ron looked like he was on the verge of tears.

“As touching as your little story is, Mr Malfoy, you will both lose fifty points from your houses- yes Mr Malfoy, I’m taking points off my own house… And…You will both receive a three week long detention. All day on weekends and every night after dinner on school days. I will see you two in this very office tomorrow night and fill you in on your punishment.  _ Sober.  _ Now- off to bed before I change my mind and put both of you on the Hogwarts express first thing in the morning!” 

It was Draco’s turn to gape now. 

“Excuse me, professor, my father--” 

“Silence!” Snape yelled. “I do not care about your father’s opinions in this very matter!” He banged his fist into the table and Ron jumped slightly in his seat. 

Draco sighed. So much for… 

Both boys got up to their feet and left the office. Ron ran out before Draco, freckled face flushed and body tense. He didn’t give Draco as much as a glance before disappearing to the moving staircases- his whole body language told he was furious as hell. 

_ Fucking Weasley.  _ Draco knocked down possible feelings of guilt knotting up in his stomach. 

Malfoys simply did not have those emotions. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron has a lot of thoughts. He and Hermione have a cake-tasting with Harry and Ginny.  
Warning: mentions of hallucinogen drugs.

_”Ronald Weasley! Where have you been?!”_

Hermione Granger was just about ready to explode with fury. Her voice was so sharp it could cut through glass and she nearly gave him a bloody heart attack the way she shouted. Especially since her angry face was the first thing he saw when he turned around after Apparating back to their flat. That _always _made his heart skip a beat, but this time it very nearly stopped altogether. Before Hermione, Ron always thought his mother was the only one who could pull such a deadly look that even made Bill and Charlie shudder with fear.

He was clearly very, very wrong. 

_”Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?!” _Hermione went on, her arms flying wildly to her sides and her brown hair seemed ten times bigger its usual size. ”When you didn’t show at the restaurant— I couldn’t get hold of you and then— needed to go back to work— couldn’t concentrate— went home!” She spoke very fast and when she finished she was breathless and panting. Her hands clenched her chest as if she could prevent her heart from beating so fast that way. When she started to sob, Ron- who had been standing there saying nothing like a git- dared to put his arms around her and pull her into a hug.

”Shhh…” He whispered against her hair. ”Calm down…”

Hermione’s head flew up from having her face buried in his shirt; another deadly look fixed in her eyes. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

”Or not,” Ron said, trying to wipe the tears away with one of his hands. ”Look, I’m really, really sorry Hermione…”

”You know you can’t do that!” She cried, punching her fists into his chest. ”You know you can’t disappear like that w-without telling me since— since…” Her voice broke. Ron’s heart squeezed.

_Since that time you ran off in the forest. _

”I’m sorry,” He said again. It pained him seeing her like this. He had frightened her. It made him feel so guilty and rightfully so.

Hermione wriggled out of his grasp and he let her.

”Where were you?” She asked again, wiping her face. ”And…” She stepped away from him, gaze roaming over him as if she only then realised why he’d gone out in the first place. Suddenly she was back to being angry.

”Didn’t you pick up everything I asked? Where’s the cake box? For Heaven’s sake Ron, this is broken!” Her voice was stressed and high-pitched. She had grabbed one of the shopping bags he’d brought home now peering into its content. A few of the decorations were completely destroyed.

Ron suddenly felt very tired. He almost deflated on the spot. Managing to get into the kitchen to sit down, he rubbed his fingers over his eyes. Hermione followed, talking rapidly and scolding him. Ron wasn’t going to argue that he didn’t deserve that, but he just wanted to—

_’My God Hermione, can you just shut up?!’ _Ron wanted to snap. However, he didn’t. He was Hermione Granger’s good boyfriend. Good boyfriends didn’t shout to their girlfriends like that. Especially not to their future wives. So instead of shouting, he furiously moved on to rubbing his temples instead.

A few years ago, he would’ve lost his temper and shouted at her. They would have argued and possibly have a weeks-long silent treatment towards each other. But he was twenty years old and even though he still was a moody git sometimes, he’d gotten better controlling his feelings.

”I’m sorry,” he said for the third time. He began feeling exasperated even though he knew he didn’t have the right to. ”I forgot the cake. I’m really sorry—” Ron couldn’t tell her the way it was. That he’d dropped the fucking thing because he’d been so flabbergasted seeing…

_Him._

Hermione, of course, didn’t know. She didn’t know anything about Ron being fifteen and so desperately, _insanely_ in love he was blind to everything else. It had been so wrong because it was Draco and he very well knew how mean he’d been when they were in school. He’d given Hermione walrus teeth, everything he’d done to Harry, every hurtful comment and mean little joke… It should have been more than enough to make him stay away as far as possible, yet he’d still gone behind the backs of everyone he cared about because he’d been blind and addicted to those small precious moments where they had forgotten about who they were. With their foreheads pressed together and Draco’s hands up Ron’s constantly untucked school shirts, they’d forgotten. In those stolen moments, nothing else had existed or mattered and…

Before Ron knew it everything had been gone as fast as it had started.

In his then naive mind, Ron really thought they’d had something. Something of importance.

_’You mean nothing to me Weasley and what we had was nothing.’_

When it ended, Ron sought out other thrills. He’d fumbled in the dark, feeling panicky, jealous and bitter. He’d fallen into a desperate kind of… _something _with Lavender and then fallen in love with Hermione. He’d been confused and terrified and with everything going on back then, they had far greater problems than dealing with his fucked up emotions.

Harry had been obsessed with Draco during their sixth year. And then when he suggested that Draco was a Death Eater- Ron hadn’t believed him.

But when it dawned on him that his best mate probably was right- there had still been a part of Ron who didn’t_ want_ to believe him. Who’d kept hoping that Harry might have been wrong.

And then shit had hit the fan.

”Dear God Ron, what happened to your hand?!” Hermione shrieked suddenly. Her hand covered her mouth and she pointed to the wounds and swelling on Ron’s hand with her other.

Fuck. He had forgotten about that.

”I was… assaulted.”

Ron had meant to say _fell _or something like that. He was clumsy, it wouldn’t be the first time. But instead, the word escaping his mouth had been _assaulted. _It wasn’t completely a lie. He and Draco would have been beaten up properly by those kids if they hadn’t fought back. If Ron hadn’t fought back. They had more or less been attacked. It mostly explained why he hadn’t shown up at the restaurant on time either. He dared look up and meet her eyes. They were huge with worry.

”Oh, Ron!”

Hermione was suddenly close, her arms flung around his neck. For about half a minute everything was quiet until she was her usual burst with questions again. Who had assaulted him? What did they look like? Should they go to the Muggle police? Why hadn’t Ron said anything and let her yell at him for so long?!

The questions never stopped.

_Ron, Ron, Rooooon!_

”Fuck’s sake, Hermione!” He threw his hands up and let them feebly fall to his sides. She kept staring at him with those chocolate saucer-sized eyes, her dark brows creased with worry and when tears started falling down her cheeks again he was overcome with a bad conscience about scaring her so much. He immediately rose to his feet and embraced her tightly.

”Hey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for yelling at you. I’m sorry for scaring you. I actually went into the restaurant but you must’ve already left by then. I should’ve notified you somehow. I’m so sorry. I love you.” He pressed their foreheads together, his hands cupping her tear-streaked face.

”But you were attacked…” She whispered. ”I could have lost you…”

”No, no it wasn’t that bad,” Ron tried comforting. He suddenly felt so fucking stupid for saying he was jumped in the streets. What was he hoping to achieve with that? Fuck him and his large mouth sometimes. It was such a dick move because Hermione was so frantic with worry.

”But it was…” Hermione continued slowly. ”You could have been shot or something else horrible. Getting attacked is not something to take lightly Ron, you should know this.”

”It wasn’t that bad,” He said, desperately wanting to get out of this conversation. ”It was just a bunch of school kids being stupid and I fell. You know how clumsy I am.” He kissed her, hoping this would steer her away from asking more questions he didn’t have the energy to answer. ”I’m so sorry…” Ron mumbled against her mouth when the kiss broke. ”So damn sorry, you have no idea… But don’t worry about me. We survived a war and more with Harry during school. I won’t go down so easily. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not.” He smiled faintly, his hands in her hair holding her tighter than he’d ever done before.

Hermione laughed through her tears and then they kissed again. Ron took both her hands in his and walked backwards to their bedroom. It was in conjunction with their kitchen and soon he fell onto the soft bedspread with his girlfriend deliciously sprawled on top of him.

”I don’t have time for this…” Hermione mumbled against his warm skin but she made no effort in pulling away from his embrace. ”I’m so glad and relieved you’re home and okay and safe but—”

”Shh…”

It was weird. Coming home after the stressful events had suddenly left him with the desperate urge of reminding himself on what he had and who he was. He had scared Hermione shitless, she was extra fragile about stuff like that after the war. His stomach twitched with guilt as he reversed their positions and kissed down her soft throat. She let out a breathy moan and dug her fingers into his thick hair.

”We really shouldn’t do this right now…”

”I want to,” Ron whispered back.

”You know…” Hermione said thirty minutes later. She laid on her stomach next to Ron in their bed, her cheeks warm and flushed pink and a brightness in her eyes. ”This thing that happened today might have just improved our sex life. This was incredible.”

”Maybe I should get attacked by randoms more often,” Ron joked.

”Ugh, don’t joke about that. I’m serious, Ron. Aren’t you afraid?”

”I’m an Auror, Hermione. I think I can handle a few Muggle kids.” He yawned loudly. Merlin, he was tired. He’d barely gotten any sleep last night and turns out sex did nothing to improve his energy. He was exhausted.

”Yes, but—”

”I’m sorry about everything though. About the cake and everything else.”

She kissed him on his freckled nose. ”It’s okay. The important thing here is that I have you home in one piece, love. Everything else is fixable.”

Ron blinked. _Love._

”What’s wrong?” Hermione suddenly looked very worried again. She searched his face as if his empty expression would reveal the answer to her.

”Nothing,” Ron said quickly, afraid she suddenly would figure everything he so desperately tried to hide out. ”I think I just need to sleep for a bit.”

”Okay. Let me know if you need anything, yeah?”

He nodded.

_Fuck_. As soon as she got dressed and left the room, he laid on his back and sighed. His hands rubbed his eyes forcefully.

He wondered what Hermione would say if she knew she hadn’t been the only one calling Ron that today.

They had been schoolboys. Draco wasn’t the sweet nickname type. Merlin knew he couldn’t even call Ron by his first name. It was always Weasley or variations of it. But sometimes, very rarely, it slipped out.

It had made him feel so warm and so safe. Who would have thought _Malfoy _could have that impact on him?

Hearing it today…

_Grow up, Weasley. It was years ago. You are a grown man with a beautiful girlfriend who loves you and who you love, too. Let him go. Stop thinking about the person who did absolutely nothing to prevent Hermione from getting hurt at the Manor. She could have died you stupid fuck. Do we really need to go through this again?_

His inner voice taunted him and he groaned, pushing back his head against the pillow.

Draco Malfoy was the biggest mistake in his entire life.

A mistake Ron sure as fuck wasn’t over no matter how much he tried to deny it. It ate him alive.

_Because you still love him, don’t you? You sent him pathetic letters when Hermione was in Scotland last year._

Hermione went back to Hogwarts after the war. Ron had missed her so much his heart hurt and whenever he was off shift, he sat home sad and drunk and wrote letters to bloody Draco Malfoy when he should have paid all his attention to her. Only her.

At least now he knew what the little git had done with them.

Hermione was spoiling him. After he woke up from a restless nap, she didn’t leave his side all afternoon. She cooked his favourite food and poured up red wine and they ate together with lit candles and soft, classical music going on in the background. The rest of the flat was dark and quiet.

”Mhm… This is so good, Hermione,” Ron moaned around his fork, enjoying the flavour and sensation of the wonderful cooking she managed to conjure. ”You’re so good at that.”

”I’m glad you like it,” She smiled. ”I ordered a new cake while you were asleep by the way. We’ll pick it up tomorrow before we go to Harry and Ginny’s.”

Ron nodded silently. He wanted to apologise again but Hermione would probably smack him if he tried. There were only so many times he could say he was sorry.

”I ran into Malfoy today,” He said instead, helping himself to some more food. Then he froze, realising what just slipped out.

Hermione frowned. ”Really? Very odd. Considering it was the _muggle parts _of London you visited today.” She wrinkled her nose.

”I know,” Ron murmured. ”I thought so too.”

”Ron…” Hermione put down her fork and looked at him with a serious expression. ”It wasn’t Malfoy you got into a row with today, was it? That led up to—” She nodded to his wounded hand.

”Oh, no of course not.” Ron couldn’t help snort at that. ”Believe me Hermione, I wouldn’t touch Malfoy with a ten-foot pole…”

_Yeah, right. Not what you said in that bloody room back at Hogwarts, was it?_

Shut up, he thought bitterly.

”I didn’t even talk to him! We just walked past each other, I just noticed he was _there _that’s all,” said Ron, putting the wine glass to his lips. He drank with more eagerness than he probably should.

”Really?” Hermione’s voice sounded uncertain. ”I’ve seen how your fathers get towards one another, I wouldn’t want the same with you and him… We’re not in school anymore.”

”Never,” He said. ”It’s not gonna be like that. I saw him for the first time today in two years. You know when we last saw him before that. You were there.”

”Yeah…” She answered, looking down on her plate. ”I suppose I was.”

”Hey…” Ron tucked away some of her bushy hair behind her ear. It didn’t stay there. ”Don’t think about it. It was a long time ago. I shouldn’t have brought him up.”

She shot him a smile, intertwining their fingers over the table.

”So what do you want to do now?” Ron asked as they put away the dishes and charmed them to wash themselves in the sink. ”Chess?” He couldn’t help grinning to himself. Hermione hated chess. Naturally, he always asked her if she wanted to play him. He so loved teasing her about it.

She laughed, shaking her head. ”You know I never want to, Ron.”

”Which is why I keep on asking.” He winked at her.

”Really though…” Hermione sighed, leaning against the kitchen counter. ”I need to catch up on some work. I couldn’t today, you know when— So I need to now. I’m sorry, darling.”

”Oh.” Ron’s mood instantly soured. He didn’t mean to, but it did. ”Guess I’m left to myself tonight, then.”

”Don’t sulk,” Hermione begged. ”It’s just- things are really crazy at work right now. I have tons of paperwork to go through. I don’t want to have it hanging over me tomorrow when we’re at Harry’s.”

”Yeah.” Ron nodded.

Hermione cupped his face in her hands and kissed him on the lips. ”Just tonight. After that, I promise I won’t touch work until I actually _am _at work on Monday morning, okay?”

”Okay.”

”Don’t sulk, Ron!” She called over her shoulder when she disappeared into her office at the far end of the flat.

Truth to be told, Ron wanted Hermione to spend time with him because he was afraid of being alone with his thoughts after today. If he spent time with her, he didn’t think about how shitty he felt all the time. Every time he opened his fucking eyes in the morning, he always felt empty and hollow and it only seemed to be getting worse. Hermione was used to Ron sometimes getting low and she had taken to notice it seemed to happen more during the wintertime of the year. Which was where they were heading now. That’s why she was so certain it was seasonal depression, apart from coping with everything after the war, of course. She too felt it, but it was Ron -the forever emotional one- who let everything get to him. Hermione simply held her head up high and kept moving forward. Ron envied how easy it seemed to be for her. Harry was like that, too. But Harry was used to it, he supposed.

Ron finished the rest of the red wine and was about to pour himself more but decided to leave the glass and take the whole bottle instead. He then moved back to their bedroom.

Hermione had no idea how much he drank. It was basically all he did whenever he was alone these days. He was actually surprised it didn’t show and how well he was able to hide it from her.

’Fucking loser you are’, he muttered darkly under his breath. Ron reasoned he needed to drink _especially _today because seeing his ex-boyfriend he basically never thought he’d see again, let alone talk to, was seriously messing with his mind.

Why was it so hard for him to understand Ron. Just. Wanted. To. Fucking. Talk. Just once. So he could put his mind at ease.

Or some shit.

_’You mean nothing to me Weasley and what we had was nothing.’_

_’Yeah, because it sooo felt like nothing when we snuck around the castle, got creative with the lying and fucked our way through detentions and whatnot. Well, once we figured out the actual fucking-part.’_Ron meant it to be a rather bitter thought because he was bitter and very tipsy on top of that, but he couldn’t help smiling at some of the memories popping up in his head. Draco had been a whole other Draco whenever they were behind closed doors. When he was with Ron and only Ron and once Ron managed to get under the hard surface- he had found someone he actually loved and had cared deeply for. Someone who had not been completely unlike himself.

Sure, they had been teenagers and everything had been all sorts of scary and nervous and awkward but so brilliant anyway.

He’d been so fucking deceived.

”So…” said Ron in a hushed voice to Harry as they stood in his and Ginny’s kitchen the next day. ”Is it just me or have both of them lost their minds?” He nodded to the dining room where Hermione and Ginny were setting up the table for their cake-tasting. They were chattering away, seemingly unaware that both their boyfriends had fled to the kitchen.

Harry rolled his eyes. ”Thank Merlin, I thought it was just me. I mean, cake-tasting? For a bloody _engagement-party? _Seriously? Is that… _common?”_

”I don’t know.” Ron shrugged. ”Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. Still though. Cake, mate.”He nudged Harry playfully in the shoulder.

”Planning’s so tiring though,” Harry moaned, rubbing his neck. ”I’m exhausted. And with work too, it’s all a bit much, you know? At this rate, I’ll be nodding off in a corner somewhere when we actually have the party.”

”Or getting drunk,” Ron offered.

”Or that.”

”Charlie’ll be coming in from Romania though,” Ron continued offhandedly, twirling the glass of water he held in his hand. He eyed Harry with a smirk, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. ”And you know what they grow in Romania, don’t you?”

Harry gasped in surprise, but couldn’t help looking impressed at the same time too. ”Seriously? You bastard.” He glanced at the doorway before lowering his voice even more. ”Hermione’s gonna kill you if she finds out.”

”She’s not going to.” Ron looked at Harry with a suddenly serious expression. His eyes were almost pleading. ”Come on mate,I don’t want to sit through a sodding engagement party with five hundred people all stiff and uncomfortable when I could be secretly getting shit-faced and high with my best friend. I mean, Hermione’s great and I love her but this party that gotten in both of our girlfriends' heads is ridiculous.”

”I know,” Harry agreed. ”I don’t even want to think about what both our weddings are going to be like.”

Ron shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that either. ”So, let’s not then,” He concluded with a grin. ”Let’s get ridiculously plastered one last time. You’ll love Charlie’s mushrooms, too. But you know, we’re gonna have to play the pretend game when around Ginny and Hermione. Otherwise, I’m pretty sure we’ll be divorced before we’re even married.” He laughed. Harry chimed in.

”Yeah, okay. Thanks, Ron. Suddenly this party seems ten times more appealing—”

Ron squeezed Harry’s shoulder. ”Thank Charlie later. Merlin knows we deserve this after everything we’ve been through…”

Harry nodded his agreement. He looked like he wanted to say something more but Ginny suddenly appeared in the doorway, long red hair pulled up in a ponytail on top of her head and her eyebrows creased.

”There you are! We’re about to try the cakes, come on! What are you waiting for?!” She beckoned for them to follow her.

Ron thought he and Hermione lived in a nice flat. It was small but not cramped and their spare bedroom served as an office for Hermione.

Harry and Ginny’s flat was entirely in a league of its own. It was so large it resembled a small house and their dining room (they bloody had a _dining room!_) was in conjunction with the living room- open and inviting. The young women had set up the table with nice china and several delicious cakes in various flavours stood there waiting for them to start. Ron almost felt his mouth water; Merlin knew he loved cake.

Sure enough, ten minutes later, he was digging into a large piece of raspberry cake with a white chocolate glazing that was all sorts of amazing. Hermione laughed beside him.

”Seriously Ron, it’s supposed to be cake _tasting _not eating!” She wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

”Yeah, maybe you and that cake should get a room,” Ginny snickered opposite him.

Ron glared.

”Maybe we will,” He grouched. ”Besides I’m hungry.”

”You’re always hungry, Ron.”

”Yeah, yeah okay I like to eat, what of it? We’ve already established that like ten thousand fucking times.”

Ginny’s raised her coppery eyebrows. ”Wow, Ron,” She smirked. ”Why so sulky?”

Ron chose not to answer. He couldn’t help feeling annoyed. He felt like everybody constantly picked on him. Always a comment whenever he filled his plate or how his table manners were. Even in the rare times when he didn’t have an appetite somebody just _had _to make a comment about it. Bloody hell.

Hermione changed the subject.

”So the party’s in two weeks. I’ve booked the venue, it’s going to be amazing… It’s huge—”

Hermione’s voice subdued in Ron’s ears as she started talking about the venue she’d found for their giant party. It really was a brilliant venue too. Hermione had found a mansion in the countryside, hidden from view surrounded by large trees and bushes. It was a beautiful pond right in front of it with a fountain in the middle and a path leading up to the entrance of the mansion laid with white stones. A very romantic setting according to her and she had _insisted _they’d rent it for the party. Ginny had fallen equally in love and both Harry and Ron shared a look over the table. They had a silent mutual agreement that all of this was a bit too much, no matter how much they loved their future wives. Too much and too expensive.

Everyone they knew was invited. Mrs Weasley had been slightly crushed that they didn’t want to have the party at the Burrow in the gardens but she had volunteered in cooking the food nonetheless. Ron looked forward to having all of his family together and spend some time with his brothers. They were all so busy nowadays. He missed Charlie. His throat tightened at the thought of how they would be one brother short at the celebrations. Fred would never get the chance to see Ron and Ginny get married to their significant others.

It was really fucking unfair.

”Okay,” Ginny said, pointing to the chocolate cake Ron and Hermione had brought with them with her fork. ”This. This is sooo good. We should go with this one.” It had a blueberry filling. She closed her eyes and tilted her head backwards in satisfaction and Harry gave her such a hungry look Ron had to look away. He did _not _just witness his best friend horny-stare down his little sister. It was a little too much.

”Hmm, I kind of like the strawberry one better,” Hermione said thoughtfully. ”What do you think? Ron? Harry?”

”What’s that?” Harry tore his gaze away from Ginny and blinked.

”I wondered which cake you like the best.”

Harry shrugged. ”Dunno. I’m up for either. What about you mate?”

Ron shrugged too. ”Yeah. Me too.”

”Oh, for Heaven’s sake!” Hermione snapped. ”Don’t you have any opinions at all?!”

Harry rolled his eyes. ”We’re guys, Hermione. We don’t care.”

Ron smiled. Harry always knew what to say. Hermione shot them one of her _why-do-I-even-bother_-looks she’d been perfecting since childhood and shook her head.

”Both then?” Ginny suggested. ”The blueberry and the strawberry?”


	4. Chapter 4

_Hogwarts 1995_

Twenty-one days.

That was how long Draco had to survive in the presence of the Weasel. So far, he’d managed two nights and he felt as though he should be getting some kind of award for putting up with the ill-tempered redhead.

Weasley was incredibly angry and had been so ever since they got caught. In fact, he was so angry he’d stopped talking, which was unnerving. Draco would never admit it, but it was_. _Weasley could _never _keep his mouth shut, he always had to say _something _but now his mouth was a thin, firm line and all that was heard in the cold dungeon were harsh, angry breaths and the gross sound of wet sponges scrubbing against the iron of the cauldrons they were washing. Or supposed to be washing. Draco eyed his own sponge with disgust.

_No way he was touching that._

Before arriving in Snape’s office the day after their drunken adventures, Draco overheard Weasley pleading with the professor about having their detentions separately. Snape’s tone had been rather sarcastic as it very clearly indicated that _’both of them had been so good friends in the kitchens it would be a shame if he didn’t allow their little friendship to thrive…’ _to which Draco could only imagine Weasley looking extremely upset in response. In fact, he could almost _feel _his emotions through the closed door.

They had gotten away rather lightly, considering what they had done. The professor had made it very clear that they were lucky who weren’t on the train home right about now.

All that was asked of them instead was that they show up in the dungeons every night after dinner on school nights and all day on the weekends. Their punishment mainly consisted of cleaning: cleaning disgusting cauldrons, classrooms, the bathrooms (Draco had been fully planning on coaxing Ron into doing everything; it was below his dignity to do such things. So far no coaxing had been needed, though), trophies and organize the professor’s potions ingredients. Everything needed to be done without magic and before entering the classroom used for detentions, they had to give up their wands. Snape then locked them in- a move Draco considered incredibly cruel.

”Everything you don’t do today, you finish tomorrow,” The professor’s dark voice snapped before shutting the door.

Weasley sat on the floor, a particularly dirty cauldron between his legs. He had rolled up the sleeves on his white school shirt and was scrubbing manically on the outside of the cauldron where a rather nasty green slime stuck to it. Draco wrinkled his nose. They’d been here an hour already today and he still hadn’t touched the sponge he’d been given. All he’d done in the past two days was watching the redhead do everything. He was surprised Weasley hadn’t argued about it and Draco hated how he actually felt annoyed. That wasn’t how they usually did things. Weasley was supposed to snap and be angry, shove him or something. Draco would be sarcastic, sneering and push the redhead’s buttons until he succumbed, threw his hands up in the air and they’d end up in this position anyway. Somehow they had skipped all that and the infuriating silence that had been going on since they were caught made Draco uneasy. Being uneasy and insecure was _not _a position he fancied himself being in. It made him tense.

Draco leaned against the stone wall, arms folded over his chest. His foot tapped irritably against the hard floor, but not even that seemed to faze Ron. Not enough to wind him up enough to break the silence at least. He ran a hand through his short, white-blond hair. This was truly pathetic.

”I’m surprised you actually know how to keep your mouth shut,” Draco commented at last, hating himself for being the first person to break the tense silence. He felt like he lost in an unspoken competition.

Ron didn’t answer.

”It’s rude not to say something when you are spoken to,” Draco continued. Ron still didn’t open his mouth, but Draco saw how his jaw tightened.

_A small victory._

”What, Weasley? Suddenly too good to talk to me, are you?” Draco tilted his head slowly to one side. ”Just remember whose fault it is that we’re here anyway…”

Ron threw the sponge hard into the cauldron. Blue eyes burned with rage. ”You slimy piece of shit!” He snapped. ”Leave me the fuck alone! I don’t want to talk to you.”

Draco narrowed his eyes, but his thin lips curved into a mean little smile. ”And why is that? I distinctly recall you_ inviting_ me to go down this hell hole with you.”

”_You_ sold me out!” Ron was red in the face from all his held back anger. It was entertaining to see him struggle so to not lose it completely. His hands gripped the edge of the cauldron tightly, knuckles whitening.

Draco snorted at that. ”Of course I did. It’s me. What, did you think we were _friends_ just because we spent one night not trying to kill each other?”

Ron chewed his bottom lip. He seemed to do that often. A nervous tic, maybe? He looked like he was thinking Draco’s words over for a moment but then shook his head forcefully. ”No.”

”No, no, of course, you didn’t,” Draco said, voice dripping with sarcasm. ”You’re too smart for that, aren’t you?”

Ron’s face hardened. He firmly shut his eyes. ”It doesn’t matter anyway. Your plan didn’t work. You’re here in the same position as me. Must suck for you, not getting your way.”

”I’m not entirely in the same position,” Draco inspected his nails lazily and smirked. ”You’ve been on all fours ever since we got locked up in this room.” He fixed his grey eyes in the redhead’s, now open, blue again. ”All this cleaning… Is that how you spend all your summers in that pigsty of yours, hmm? This reminds you of that, I bet. That is of course when you’re not trying to win favours with Mudblood. Tell me, Weasley, how does it feel to play second fiddle to the supposed saviour of the Wizarding world?”

He could see Weasley tense more at his words, but it was obvious he was too defiant and stubborn to act. His muscles twitched though and his dirty nails dug into the palms of his hands, blood boiling under his skin. Draco was sure he would find a fast-beating heart if he were to press his hand against the boy’s chest. His own was beating fast, too. He’d always loved teasing and riling Ron up. He was so easy to pick on since he had so many flaws worth pointing out.

”Don’t call them that,” the redhead managed between gritted teeth. His voice was a low growl. ”Don’t you dare—”

”Careful Weasley,” Draco warned. ”I see how tense you are. Poor boy, holding on to all that anger must tire you out…” He shook his head.

Ron’s eyes darkened, but he closed his mouth. Instead, he shot Draco a pure death glare, though he remained seated. The rest of the detention was spent in utter silence yet again, but Draco saw how Ron washed the cauldrons with more enragement than he did before. He didn’t comment on the fact that Draco wasn’t helping.

***

Draco heard their voices outside the closed door before Ron entered the classroom. Two more days had passed; more sucky detention hours where he did nothing and Weasley did everything. Weekend was around the corner, in which they would spend their first full days of more of the same disgusting shit.

The redhead was receiving a lecture from Granger, it seemed like. It piqued his interest and he couldn’t help to eavesdrop.

_’Honestly Ron, you’ve got to take things more seriously! You are a prefect now and we’re supposed to be role models to the younger pupils in this school! You can’t break the rules yourself if you are supposed to…Dumbledore chose you for a reason! What would your mother say?!’_

_’Fuck’s sake Hermione, stop it! Mum has received way worse letters from the twins… But… you’re not planning on telling her, are you?’_

Draco could hear the pleading, almost desperate, in Ron’s voice. He was so incredibly fiery but next to fucking Granger and his Mum, he always seemed so submissive.

_’Well, when we leave for Christmas, I just might! Twenty-one days of detention… You’re such an idiot! You could’ve been expelled! You put your whole future at risk, for Heaven’s sake!’_

_’Hermione…’_

_’And the worst part,’ _Hermione continued in an exasperated tone, _’Is that you did it with Draco Malfoy out of all people! Harry and I were so worried for you when you didn’t show up in the common room and then we learned that you… Do you really want to upset him more?! You know how fragile he is after Cedric…’ _Her voice trailed off.

_’Yeah, I know,’ _Ron muttered. _’What do you want me to say? I’m sorry? Because I am, Hermione and I don’t need you to keep reminding me of it! I already got my punishment, I go to the bloody detentions, sit them out while taking Malfoy’s crap and I don’t argue about it—’_

_’Yes, but then you come to me and whine about how you didn’t have the time to do your homework! So then I have to do twice as much because I’d hate to see you fail! If you only took things a little bit more seriously then—’_

_’You did my homework?’ _Draco could hear Ron’s smile in his voice and he rolled his eyes. For the love of Salazar…

_’Yes!’ _Hermione answered pointedly. _’However, if you don’t take things more seriously, I might not want to help you again! And then you can’t come and complain to me if you are failing… I have a ton of things to do myself so you should be grateful that I even consider—’_

_’Well, it’s not like I FORCE you to do my homework for me, Hermione!’ _Annoyance suddenly rose in Ron’s tone. Draco could hear Granger answer something but then Ron swung the door open with force and entered the classroom with a scowl on his face. Draco pretended to pay attention to another batch of dirty cauldrons professor Snape had left to them. He hadn’t touched any of it.

”You’re late,” He threw poisonously in Ron’s direction. It was mainly just to say something. Draco had something sour in his stomach he didn’t want to acknowledge. He absolutely _hated _people. He especially hated Weasley, Potter and that stupid Mudblood Granger, who seemed to think she’s better than anyone else. Well, _all _of them seemed to think they were. Except for Weasley, maybe. Anyone with working eyes could see he was the weakest link of their little group and Draco relished to use it to his advantage. It was so easy since Weasley did half of the work for him. Potter was a whole other matter. He pissed Draco off to no end. It wasn’t fair how he got everything served to him; Draco was sure Potter cheated or something, in Quidditch and everything else. Draco was supposed to be the more talented Seeker and he fancied himself a better flier, yet Potter always seemed to… Draco felt his shoulders tense in irritation.

_Well, it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? He’s off the team so don’t bother with it… Potter won’t play for Gryffindor again, Umbridge said so and despite whatever you think of her, she did something right so calm down…_

”So?” Ron said defiantly, interrupting Draco’s thoughts. His blue eyes roamed over the dirty cauldrons. ”I see you’ve got loads done, haven’t you?” His voice was practically oozing with sarcasm.

”I won’t touch that, Weasley,” Draco replied coolly. He made a face at the dry sponge lying on the table, waiting to be picked up and used.

Ron snorted. ”Of course you won’t. You’re too dainty for that, aren’t you?” He picked up his own sponge and soaked it in the soap water Snape had provided them with. Then, without a word more, he scrubbed the sponge against one of the cauldrons, his upper body almost disappearing into it to get properly inside. His shirt was untucked and as he bent down with his back facing Draco, it went up a little, revealing pink pale skin. The Slytherin caught sight of it and scowled. He didn’t want to see that.

However, he still found the silence infuriating. So Draco couldn’t really stop himself from opening his mouth once again, just to get Ron talking.

”Heard you arguing with Granger,” He pointed out, leaning over one of the work tables and propping up his head in his hands. ”Trouble in paradise? Bit of a lover’s quarrel, maybe?”

Ron threw him a peculiar look over his shoulder. ”What? That’s none of your business. Are you… spying on me?” The tone in his voice was incredulous and the tips of his ears went slightly red. 

Draco scoffed. ”Given that the whole castle could probably hear you, then yes Weasley, I do spy on you. You were just outside the door, it’s thick but not _that_ thick. Anyway…” He continued offhandedly, ”Never knew you were a person who’d get off by someone doing your homework for you… Could practically hear your boner outside. Pathetic.”

The redhead blushed harder than Draco thought was possible. He got up to his feet and turned around so he was facing Draco instead. His face was contorted in anger.

”You’re lying,” Ron spat. ”Take that back, Malfoy. _Now.”_

”Or what?” Draco snapped. ”You’re going to punch me? I’d rather not Weasley, I don’t have to _feel _your bodily reactions to whatever Mudblood says, too. It wouldn’t be wise either, unless of course, you would want to be sent home.”

Ron took a few threatening steps forward. One hand balled into a fist and the other was still holding the wet sponge, squeezing it so hard it was dripping on the floor.

”Might be worth it,” He said gruffly. ”All you do is piss me off.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. ”You wouldn’t dare with professor Snape just a shout away.”

The Gryffindor shook his head. He almost laughed. ”Really? Or is it you who is the same coward you always were? You’re all talk, Malfoy. I’m asking you kindly once more to leave me the fuck alone. You’re right. We’re not _friends_. I wouldn’t want to be that with you. I regret the Saturday night we hung out together. Wasn’t worth it. Should’ve known better. Now I’m stuck with you for three weeks and you don’t even tryto put your goddamn arse to work. You’re such a shit like always.”

The redhead’s words flew like poisonous arrows in the air between them. Draco was a little taken aback; he hadn’t expected Weasley to say so many words in so little time. Weasley had barely drawn a breath during his whole speech and without waiting for any answer, he had simply turned around again and started cleaning the cauldron like nothing had happened at all between them. The classroom seemed tense and the sour feeling Draco temporarily had managed to knock down resurfaced in his stomach.

_’No’, _he told himself firmly. _’You do not feel guilty’._

What was he supposed to feel guilty of, anyway? It wasn’t Draco’s fault Weasley was so damn sensitive and took everything so bloody hard.

_Fucking stupid idiot._

***

Saturday. Draco didn’t want to wake up and groaned into his soft pillow in his Slytherin dorm. The other boys he shared with were fast asleep still and Draco so wished he could be too. If this was a normal day he probably would but professor Snape was relentless. He had warned them yesterday evening that he would want them in his office Saturday morning at eight o’clock sharp.

_’If you are not here on time, there’ll be consequences,’ _he’d threatened. Draco was sure though that whatever the consequences might be, he could always get out of it. Weasley was the one who was hanging on a loose thread. Draco had his father who could sort anything out and he was no doubt professor Snape’s favourite student so he wouldn’t throw him away like that. Draco put on his clothes and smirked to himself. The fear he had first experienced when they were caught about getting expelled was long gone. Sure, he hadn’t succeeded in having Weasley take all the blame, which was unfortunate, but Snape wouldn’t do something like that to him. What had he been thinking?

Still though, it felt like such a waste of a nice Saturday to spend it with the Weasel. In fucking detention. At least he’d so far managed to stay away from mucking up his impeccable school robes.

_Always something._

He was alone at the Slytherin table during breakfast. He could see Weasley sitting by himself at the Gryffindor table too. Draco sneered at the sight of him. Somebody ought to tell him he looked like absolute shit. Ron’s clothes were either too big or too small, nothing ever seemed to fit. He mused to himself whose old school robes Ron was wearing this time. They were clearly several years old and greying so much it looked like he was covered in dust. Weasleys were poor and Draco was sure Ron hadn’t worn anything new in his entire life. He almost felt bad for him. _Almost. _The thought of not having new clothes to wear made Draco shudder. He couldn’t possibly imagine how that must feel.

The ill-fitting clothes made Weasley’s body seem weird somehow. Draco could see he was skinny underneath it all and if he had decent clothing he might look somewhat… okay. If he did something about that hair he refused to comb. It was an orange mess.

Draco fancied himself of having pretty good fashion sense. He had an interest in clothing and somehow the sight of Weasley made him want to give him a bloody makeover. He shook his head at the weird thought. He’d clearly been spending way too much time with him in detention already. It’s only been a week.

_Two more to go. You can do this._

Their first task given to them by the Professor was to organise potions ingredients in the storage cupboard.

_’Lovely’, _Draco thought. At least that was better than cleaning out dirty cauldrons. Less likely to get dirty soap water sloshed over him. It was a miracle Weasley hadn’t attempted that yet despite the taunting from the blond.

The morning went by relatively painless. They worked in silence, each in their own corner. Draco actually got some work done too; he liked professor Snape and didn’t want his precious potions ingredients completely ruined and he didn’t trust Weasley could do things properly.

By noon they went up to the Great Hall for lunch. They didn’t go together and the distance between them widened the closer they got to leave the dungeons. Draco reunited with his Slytherin mates and got a few glares from the Weasel when Pansy tugged on Draco’s arm. She had felt terribly sorry for him all week for having detention and had even offered to speak to Professor Snape about it. Draco had said no. Having Pansy doing something like that for him felt embarrassing.

Contrary to popular belief, Draco wasn’t particularly fond of Pansy Parkinson. The dark brown-haired girl apparently adored him and he never had the heart to push her away. Or rather, the energy. She was incredibly infuriating and if he was to try and get rid of her, he feared she would probably come back ten times worse. He didn’t keep her around out of kindness, but admittedly she was nice having sometimes to put on a show. Give the impression he had a girlfriend. It was so much easier to have people believe that rather than the truth. Father was obsessed with keeping the Malfoy bloodline continuing so if he knew his son’s deepest darkest secret, he was sure to be disowned and lose inheritance. And by no means that could ever happen.

_Always preferred cock over female curves and soft breasts._

”Are you okay, Dray?” Pansy wanted to know as he took his seat next to her by the Slytherin table. ”I can’t believe how cruel professor Snape is to have you in detention with Weasley.” She made a face. ”Is he terribly annoying? Would you want me to hex him?”

”I’m sure it won’t be necessary, Pansy,” Draco said, shooting her a false smile.

”Just let me know,” she said, stroking his arm gently.

”Mm,” Draco replied absentmindedly, spiking a forkful of roast beef and putting it into his mouth. He glanced at the Gryffindor table and noticed Potter wasn’t seated next to Weasley. Huh. That was certainly odd. Weasley, on the other hand, seemed to be in a rather hectic discussion with the Mudblood again. His cheeks were flushed and his expression anxious. Draco couldn’t help getting curious. Eventually, as he watched, he saw how the Weasley boy’s pale mouth formed the word _’fuck’ _and his eyes widened a little at something Granger told him while leaning in close over the table. If Draco wasn’t entirely imagining it, he looked like he was ready to cry.

After lunch, they had a new assignment from the professor, which turned out to be another ’wonderful’ batch of dirty cauldrons. Once again they were locked up in the classroom together, having their wands taken away from them.

Something was off with Weasley. His eyes were slightly swollen and he kept rubbing at one eye with his free hand; the other busy to wash the cauldron he was working on. The small, occasional sniffs he made felt weird and out of place. Draco suddenly got the sensation that he was witnessing something very private and… intimate somehow.

Weasley had left the Great Hall before Draco and he hadn’t seen him before they needed to be back for the rest of their detention. This wasn’t unusual of course; they didn’t move in the same crowds. And now when he was back… Draco had been right in his suspicions. Weasley must have really been away crying somewhere. He’d already looked like he was ready to do so at lunch in front of everyone.

It wasn’t as if Draco was unfamiliar with the redhead’s emotions. He had seen Weasley having all sorts of tantrums and expressed feelings over the years they’d attended Hogwarts. Crying, being sad had been one of them. Sometimes with anger combined. Draco had been responsible for conjuring those emotions in Weasley a few times, actually. That had always amused him, encouraged him to continue. Especially when they were small first and second-years. Draco remembered as if it were yesterday when Weasley hexed himself with his own broken wand and coughed slugs; a hex that had been meant for him. Angry tears had involuntarily shown in those bright blue eyes when he realised in horror what had happened. Since then, Weasley had matured a tiny bit and stopped crying so publicly no matter how angry he got.

He’d never forgotten the slug-incident. The look on the tall, red-haired, freckled boy’s face had been something else. Draco couldn’t help to feel a certain superiority over him because of how easy Weasley had to let his emotions show. Draco was talented in not letting anything show. Guilt, fear, attraction, sadness… Nothing. He could retain a straight face through anything. It made him feel powerful.

It was harder to control what happened on the inside, though, despite firm attempts. Something unknown twitched unpleasantly deep inside his stomach when he saw reddened eyes hidden beneath a long fringe of fiery hair. Weasley tried to be stealthy about it but Draco noticed.

It made him more than a little irritated. The random sounds in the otherwise silent room were uncomfortable and yet again Draco was hit with the feeling of being uneasy and not knowing how to act; just like it had been during those first two days of their detention when Weasley had been so angry his whole body shook and he was stubborn not to give in to Draco’s attempts to taunt him.

”Are you… _crying?” _Draco asked incredulously, raising his pale eyebrows. He wanted to tease Ron about it. Why wouldn’t he? Somehow though, he seemed to be lost for words in doing so. All that hung in the air was utter confusion laced with the irritation tensing up his body.

”No.” Ron’s tone was stubborn and Draco scolded himself inwardly for being so stupid. What had he expected the other boy to answer, really?

_’Why yes, of course, Draco thanks for asking’. _Weasley’s persistence had no end. He shook his head.

”You’re making sounds clearly indicating that you do,” Draco drawled. ”It’s annoying, not to mention weak. I know you are pathetic Weasley, but honestly…”

”What?!” Ron snapped hotly, looking up from the cauldron. His eyes met Draco’s and they were burning with rage. ”What’s it to you?! Stop picking on me!”

”I’m not picking on you, we’re not fucking five,” Draco said pointedly, cheeks slightly flushing with anger threatening to show over his features. ”You’re the one snivelling like a girl in here. Why is that? Did Granger break up with you or something? Couldn’t imagine why. You’ve shed more tears in the past minutes than she’d done in her whole life, I bet.” The last part was said in a rather sarcastic tone.

Suddenly large hands were gripping the front of his robes hard. Draco didn’t have time to take in how the redhead had gone from being seated on the floor to grabbing his robes in a time span of a couple of seconds before he was thrown against the stone wall. He felt an instant pain in the back of his head and was now staring into a red face and even redder blue eyes.

”SHUT UP!” Ron demanded in a voice so loud it hurt Draco’s ears. The sound rang off the walls. ”You’ve no right to speak to me that way! I fucking hate you, you’ve destroyed my fucking life and you’re just lucky I haven’t got my bloody wand or—”

”Or what?” Draco wheezed, back aching from being pushed so harshly into the stone. ”You’re gonna hex yourself again? Cause we both bloody well know you can’t hex me…”

Draco thought Ron was going to hit him again and shut his eyes. However, just as fast as the anger had gotten to him, it disappeared and the redhead staggered backwards, mouth hanging open, brows creased and eyes wide with what seemed like a battleship of emotions. He didn’t stop walking until he hit the wall on the opposite end where he sunk down to the floor, pulling his knees up under his chin. With long arms pulled tight around his frame and face hidden in the surprisingly small ball he’d curled himself into, Draco watched as the redhead’s back started to shake.

Draco blinked.

Weasley had… _broken down_?

Lost it, gone completely mental.

Draco’s mind instantly told him to take full advantage of this rare situation. Kick him, tease him, make him feel sorry for being so damn pathetic. Go through the whole list. Squash Weasley like a beetle under his shoe. Make him feel useless. Tell the whole castle afterwards how Weasley had cracked in detention. Make him the laughingstock for the remainder of his school years. Every cell in his body urged him on to do so.

If his Slytherin mates had been around, he would have done it. There was no doubt about it. The sour feeling in his stomach was back and he felt nauseated for reasons he didn’t know.

_I fucking hate him._

”What the hell, Weasley?” Draco heard himself say, sinking down to the floor too. He rubbed at his aching head. ”What are you playing at?”

Weasley didn’t answer. Draco waited a few minutes, allowing him a chance to speak up. When nothing came out of the other wizard’s mouth, he let out an exasperated loud sigh.

”Seriously Weasley, this is low, even for you,” He mumbled. This was getting ridiculous. The boy’s body was trembling and if he did not mistaken, it sounded as though he was weeping again.

_Fucking hell._

Draco got up to his feet and walked over to the redhead. Nudging him gently on the shin with his shoe, he tried to get a reaction from him. When none came, he cursed himself for letting the boy get to him. They were alone, Crabbe and Goyle weren’t standing behind him watching with interest and anticipation to what Draco would do next. So instead of doing something of the ordinary, Draco reached into the pockets of his robes and pulled out a green handkerchief which he dumped onto Ron’s head.

Draco turned his back against him before he could see Ron’s reaction. The crying stopped and when he dared chance a glance at Weasley again, he was holding the square fabric in his hands, staring at it with disbelieving eyes.

”It’s a handkerchief Weasley, surely you know what that is,” Draco drawled, ignoring the slight blush he could feel taking form on his cheeks. ”I suggest you use it and stop whatever it is that you do. Can’t think with your fucking wailing in here.”

”I’m not wailing…” He heard the redhead whisper. Draco pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

”Well, you do something,” He snapped. ”You irritate me for starters. You might as well tell me what’s going on if you plan to sit here like a bleeding girl all sodding afternoon.”

Draco wasn’t the one to care for others feelings. The weird stirring in his stomach wouldn’t go away and he hated that feeling. Ron was a rather brash character; although Draco always thought he was sort of weak, this was unusual for him. Curiosity took the best out of the Malfoy heir while his grey eyes locked into Ron’s with determination. He folded his arms over his chest. Waiting.

Ron chewed his bottom lip. ”Fuck you,” He bit out, suddenly back to being angry. ”What makes you think I would tell you anything?”

Draco rolled his eyes before glaring at the redhead. ”Because I can’t bloody think in here while you sit and cry your eyes out!”

Weasley got to his feet. ”Think? Oh I’m sorry, I’ve only done _everything_ in here while you’ve been a constant bitch all fucking week! What the hell do you need thinking for? Plotting something more cruel to torment others with? As if you haven’t done enough already!”

Draco opened his mouth to tell Weasley that what he said didn’t make any sense but the defiance was back in Ron’s bright blue eyes and before Draco knew it, he was fuming.

”I feel like fucking shit!” He snarled, voice shaking with anger. ”Pissing about for three weeks doing shit no one fucking cares about anyway because I was stupid enough to get drunk with you.”He chewed his lip furiously again. Draco was surprised it hadn’t started to bleed yet. ”You know Malfoy, you spend so much time making me hate myself, but I already do. Hope you’re happy to know that. I hope you feel so great about yourself right now cause you might’ve been the one that got Harry and the twins kicked off the team but I-I’m the one who wakes up every-fucking-day feeling rubbish because of it! You get so many fucking rewards for being a complete arse while others have to suffer for it. I know you don’t care, I don’t know why I fucking tell you this, I don’t know what I’m s-saying anymore. All I know is that I hate that I was sent here. I wish I could’ve been sent to fucking Umbridge instead. Like H-harry…”

Ron drew in a breath harshly through his nostrils. It was obvious his little speech almost knocked the force out of him. Draco didn’t know what to say.

Ron was blushing furiously, his hands trembling. He reminded Draco strongly of a child and not the fifteen-year-old boy he was.

_And that was fucking unnerving._

It was also unnerving it piqued Draco’s interest more.

”Why on earth would you want to have detention with that old hag?” Draco frowned. For all he cared, Ron was lucky _not_ to have detention with her. He knew she had rather cruel methods; he’d heard rumours about it. Potter had received a great deal of it obviously and Draco couldn’t care less. Umbridge favoured the Slytherins so they usually got away easy, often with no penalty at all. The fact that Draco was here with the Weasel was a rare occasion, he thought. However, despite what everyone might think, he didn’t particularly care for Umbridge. He thought she was rather annoying.

Ron looked at him weirdly at Draco’s choice of words, but he seemed to let it go in favour of continuing his rant.

”Why wouldn’t I?!” The redhead snapped, hiding his face in his hands. ”Not that you care and tease me all you want, but I’d do _anything _for him. I’d switch places in a heartbeat. He doesn’t deserve all the crappy things he gets. I do.”

Ron’s confession was so strong and stubborn Draco was taken aback. He didn’t know why Ron’s loyalty to Potter made his skin tingle with jealousy. Perhaps it was because no one Draco had around him would do the same for him. He’d always thought Weasley closely resembled a dog in the way he stuck to the ’Chosen one’s’ side. Draco shook his head.

”Not that I doubt you would take an Unforgivable for Potter but…”

”But what?!” Ron looked up, glowering.

”I just think it’s pathetic, is all,” Draco said, lacing his tone with poison to hide that Weasley’s words stung and he didn’t know why.

”Of course you do,” Ron answered dryly, folding his arms tightly over his chest and leaning against one of the worktables. He stared down at the floor. ”Of course you _fucking _do. Well, I hope you’re happy prancing around this school and making other lives miserable. Hope it’s worth it for you. I should’ve just gotten expelled.” The last part was muttered in a low voice.

Draco’s mind searched for words but after Ron’s rant he found he didn’t know what to say. At all. For the first time ever, Weasley had succeeded in making him speechless.

He ran a hand through his white-blond hair. The Slytherin told himself over and over again he did not feel guilty. Weasley wasn’t about to do that to him.

He couldn’t believe how much he suddenly hated the sight of Ron’s sad eyes behind the lilac eyelids he found himself currently staring at. He’d never felt remorse before. So why were the walls suddenly crumbling down around him?

_Shut it out. It’s Weasley. You fucking hate Weasley._

Malfoys don’t feel guilty. Malfoys don’t feel guilty. Malfoys don’t feel guilty.

Chanting it over and over again in his head, Draco opened his mouth and what came out of it even made Weasley wince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope you enjoy this chapter! To be honest I struggled a little with writing this. It's the longest chapter in the story so far and it nearly got longer but I decided to save some of the things I want to happen for the next time we visit Hogwarts. Writing Draco is definitely a challenge for me and I hope I made his character sound okayish in this part. Also, I've taken some 'artistic' liberties regarding everything with Umbridge and detentions and such from the fifth year. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mentions of Charlie's hallucinogen mushrooms again. Ron has Hogwarts flashbacks of his own.

Ron sighed and swirled a glass of whisky, watching the ice cubes melt in the yellowish liquid. A whole week had passed by since he last saw Malfoy and it had been a hellish week too. Work was shit. Work was _always _shit, but this week had been so in particular. Ron wasn’t sure he was really cut out for this Auror-thing. It was a cool profession; it paid well, and he was grateful that he’d gotten the position without going through the proper education for it (and despite not having any NEWTS) but the long work-hours were exhausting and he didn’t feel like he was doing a very good job, either. He wasn’t anything like Harry. Harry fitted the position like a glove. Harry _loved _being at work. He loved going on missions. Ron suspected he loved the thrill.

Ron was the opposite. More than half the time they were risking their lives on these missions and just a month ago he very nearly got bitten by a werewolf. They’d been on the hunt for this bloke, who’d been attacking Muggles in London for several weeks and when he and Harry finally trackedhim down, it had been full moon and he turned. Nobody knew he was a werewolf. If Harry hadn’t been there, Ron would have been killed. Or turned, too.

Truth be told, Harry often saved Ron’s arse at work. Ron might have been counted as an expert in Dark Magic just as much as his best friend but Harry was a _good _Auror. He was a brilliant Auror. Ron just… happened to be there and have the same title.

But he wasn’t Harry.

”Ron?”

Harry eyed him over the table. They were in a pub in Diagon Alley and it was packed with people. Harry had wanted to go out for beers to celebrate the weekend and Ron, having nothing better to do, had agreed. Hermione was working late and he didn’t want to go home to an empty flat. Harry had been eagerly talking since they got here two hours ago and Ron had barely heard a word. He wasn’t drunk either, not even remotely tipsy. He was staring off into space, looking at the other patrons and sinking lower in his seat.

Harry waved his hand in front of him. ”Are you all right?”

”Sorry, bit tired,” Ron muttered and straightened his posture. ”What were you saying?”

”The renovations on the house,” Harry repeated. ”I was just telling you about them. They’re going great, if you’d like to know.”

Harry and Ginny were giving 12 Grimmauld Place a complete makeover. Harry had inherited the place after Sirius died. The renovations was a chance of starting over, to give the house a new life. The plan was to move in after marriage.

Ron forced a smile to Harry. ”That’s great. I’m happy for you, mate.”

”Are you? You seem a bit… off.”

”Told you. Tired.”

Harry shot him an understanding look. ”I get it. Next weekend’s the engagement party. I suppose Hermione doesn’t let you slack off with the planning either, eh?”

”Nah.” Ron shook his head and laughed. That wasn’t true. Hermione had barely let Ron go near the party planning. The only thing he’d done was going into Muggle London and get the things on that list last Friday. He’d fucked that up obviously and after that, she hadn’t let him do anything.

_Because you’re Ron Weasley. You always fuck something up._

Harry smiled into his bottle. ”You know… Grimmauld Place’s perfect for kids. I think about that sometimes. Gotta tell you… I can’t wait for it to happen. Do you and Hermione ever talk about that?” He looked a little shy, maybe for asking such a private question.

Unfortunately during the same time, Ron had decided it did no good to him staring at the ice cubes in his drink and knocked back the whisky in two swallows. It burnt down his throat and he almost spat it out when his brain caught up with what Harry was saying. He coughed wildly.

”What?” He said hoarsely.

”Kids,” said Harry again, this time a little impatiently. ”Are you okay?”

Ron gave him a dismissive wave and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

”I can’t wait to have a real family,” Harry repeated and if the light in the pub hadn’t been so dim, Ron would have suspected there might be a pink tint on Harry’s cheeks at that little confession. Ron knew all too well Harry always had wanted a family. How much he’d always mourned he never got the chance to grow up in one and have a loving home.

So the fact that Harry wanted kids didn’t come as a surprise to Ron.

”I know,” Ron said.

Harry nodded. ”Do you and Hermione ever talk about that?”

Ron shook his head so much his fiery hair bounced around his ears and hit his jawline. Hermione said it was too long. ”Not really. Hermione wants a career first, I think. But well… Yeah I guess I think about it sometimes. It’s what everybody wants eventually, isn’t it?”

”I suppose.” Harry sipped his beer.

A rather awkward silence fell between the two friends as they both stared off into the distance, each in their own world. Ron wanted to say something more but he really didn’t know what. He remained quiet and continued to swirl the now empty glass. He pondered over whether or not he should buy a new whisky. Or something else equally strong.

_Maybe you shouldn’t. You know you are going to continue to drink once you get home. You always do when Hermione’s not home._

_Maybe you’re an alcoholic._

_’I’m not,’_ Ron thought. _’I’m just a fan of not thinking and be completely numb.’_

_Besides, I don’t always drink. Sometimes I play chess to get my mind off things. Or eat. Or masturbate…_

_Or write ridiculous letters to someone who never responds._

_Well, yeah. That too._

_Why are you so fucking weird? And why do you have talks with yourself in your own head?_

”Harry, d’you reckon I’m a good Auror?” The question was blurted before Ron could stop himself and he blushed at his own brashness. He hadn’t meant to share that.

The other man frowned, clearly confused. ”Of course. Why?”

”Dunno. Just asking.”

Harry adjusted his spectacles and leaned over the table. ”Ron… If you are talking about the werewolf thing… It wasn’t your fault.”

”I should’ve been more careful.” He folded his arms over his chest and stared at a spot on the table. Somebody had tried to wipe the dark wooden surface in an effort to clean it and he could see the streaks from the washcloth. It was still dirty though.

Ron knew his best mate searched for his eyes but he didn’t want to meet the man’s gaze right now. This wasn’t how he wanted the evening to go down. Why couldn’t he stop being so…

The werewolf-hunt bothered him more than he thought it would. He thought he was past it but clearly not. Ron had been too brave, gotten too damn close. Rain had been pouring down and the dark wizard had been holding Muggles hostage before he turned and Ron had feared for their lives and…

Harry had stepped in before he was attacked. Somehow then and there, Ron had just frozen, not being able to move.

In one swift motion Harry had pushed Ron aside and casted the killing curse, wand pointing to the werewolf-wizard. A flash of blinding green light and a loud thumping sound as the werewolf fell on the ground. The muggles had been screaming and tried to flee, utterly shocked. They had put up barriers to prevent them from escaping before they could obliviate them all.

Once again Harry had been the fucking saviour of the day. And as usual, Ron had blamed himself for not being able to do what Harry had done.

”Look, I know you guilt trip yourself for it… And a lot of other things mate, but you gotta stop. You’re just as good as I am or anyone else in our team. Besides, Kingsley said—” Harry tried comforting.

”I know what he fucking said,” Ron interrupted sullenly. He leant back in his chair. He envied the other patrons, laughing and talking loudly. They all seemed to have it so easy. Well, Ron’s life was easy too, nowadays, he supposed. So why wasn’t he feeling it? Why wasn’t he enjoying life the way he should?

”All right.” Harry tried to smile, changing the subject. ”I can’t wait for next Saturday though. I’m really looking forward doing, well, _that _with you.” He winked and leant forward to gently prod Ron’s arm with his forefinger.

Ron laughed, which seemed to please the other wizard. ”Fuck you Harry, that sounds incredibly dirty. People are gonna think you hit on me.” He looked around to make sure no one was listening in before adding ”But I know what you mean and I can’t wait either.”

Harry laughed too. ”I can’t say it aloud, can I? We need to speak in codes about this.”

”We’re not supposed to speak of it at all,” Ron teased and drummed his fingertips on the table’s surface. Charlie’s mushrooms weren’t legal and Ron couldn’t wait to get his hands on them. He and Harry had tried them before, ages ago. Fred had been alive then.

_Fred._

_No, you can’t think about that right now._

He shook his head, as if he could force the thought out of his head that way.

”I miss drunk and high Ron,” Harry commented with a wide grin and pointed to Ron with his beer bottle. ”He’s hilarious.”

”Completely off his trolley,” Ron agreed and smiled too. He lifted his empty glass. ”Speaking of, I’m gonna get another drink.”

Ron made his way through the crowd, snuck past other guests, and tried not to trip over his large feet as he aimed for the bar. The woman working behind the counter was rather pretty, he noticed, which was a lovely sight compared to the old bloke usually working there. She had forest green eyes and had pulled her honey blonde hair up in a bun on top of her head. Strands of hair had broken loose of the hairdo as the evening progressed and Ron’s heart beat a little faster as he approached her and put his glass on the desk. If he hadn’t already been in a relationship, he might’ve taken a shot on her he thought.

The woman beamed at him, showing off nice, white teeth.

”Hiya,” she greeted, her voice bubbly. ”What can I get for you?”

”More of this,” Ron twisted his glass. ”Whisky.”

The woman nodded and charmed a dark green bottle down from a shelf. It poured itself into Ron’s glass. She looked at him with interest and he felt himself blush under the warm, yellow lights. The lights were a little brighter here than the rest of the pub.

”Wait… You’re Ron Weasley,” she said, mouth opening in suprise and she clapped her hands together at the realisation. ”I knew I knew you from somewhere, but I couldn’t place you before! You’re Harry Potter’s friend! You stopped the war!”

”I am,” he said grinning a little.

”Can’t believe it.” She shook her head. ”Incredible. I’m… This is amazing.”

”Erhm… Thanks?” He blushed more, unsure of what to say next. For some reason, he wanted her to like him. She was incredibly pretty.

”My name is Ruby,” she said and Ron was completely enchanted by her smile.

”I’m Ron…”

She laughed. ”I know you are. Listen Ron, if it’s not too much to ask…” Ruby bit her lip and tried looking past his shoulder. She leant over the counter and Ron was sure this was it, he was going to have to let her down. He had a girlfriend after all. He watched the hair closest to her pretty heart shaped face curl at the temples and—

”Is that Harry Potter you’ve come here with? I think I see him over there. Can you ask him if I could get his autograph? Please? It would mean the world to me, Ron, truly.”

Ron felt his heart sink.

Bloody fucking hell.

Of course. Of course it was fucking Harry she cared about.

_Everybody cared about fucking Harry._

”Yeah, fine no problem,” he muttered, the previous smile leaving his lips. Ruby didn’t seem to take any notice. She simply squeezed his shirt clad forearm. She was warm and soft to the touch.

”Thank you, I appreciate it.”

”Mhm.” Ron put the money on the counter and left with his glass of whisky.

He was yet again in a foul mood when he got back to his table. He knocked back the drink even faster this time and tried not to wince at the bitter taste.

”The bar girl wants your autograph,” Ron stated simply and slumped down in his seat. Harry groaned.

”Really? Not again.”

_Yeah, cause it must be so goddamn hard to be so popular._

Ron didn’t say it though. It would have been like begging for a fight and he sure as hell did not want to start one. Not tonight.

Harry got to his feet with a sigh. Despite the loud surroundings, Ron could still hear his wooden chair creak when Harry pushed it back.

It was stupid to be upset over such a thing. Ron couldn’t help it though. Nobody ever fancied him like they pined over Harry. _Ever._ He didn’t know what Hermione saw in him. He certainly didn’t know what Lavender had seen in him either but then again, the girl had been completely barmy.

And… He swallowed. Draco.

That evil git.

Harry was gone an awful long time. Too long for Ron’s liking. He put his arms on the table and rested his forehead against them.

It’s been a week.

_Why do you care?_

_”Weasley…” Draco drawled and tugged at Ron’s Gryffindor tie. ”You’re late. You know I don’t like when you keep me waiting.”_

_”I know…” Ron muttered and closed the door to the tiny space of the broom cupboard. It was so bloody cramped in here. ”Harry and Hermione are getting suspicious. Besides, what’s with you and this fucking cupboard?” He grinned, having not been the first time they met up in here._

_”Cosy, isn’t it?” Draco said, leaning over Ron to lock the door with a spell. ”It was the best I could do in such short notice.”_

_”I can’t wait until we don’t have to hide anymore.” Ron’s hands were on Draco’s hips, already pulling the white shirt out of his black trousers. It’s been too long since he last had his hands on the Slytherin, bloody ages. He missed him more than he wanted to admit._

_Draco didn’t say anything. He loosened Ron’s tie and unbuttoned his shirt. Draco was fantastic with his hands, they worked fast and Ron stumbled backwards, hitting the door. He closed his eyes when said hands made contact with his naked front and gasped in surprise when the other boy’s lips closed around one of his nipples. Ron wasn’t sure if he liked it or not; it felt a little strange. But Draco seemed to favour playing with them so he supposed he didn’t mind. He pushed his head back against the door; his hair was going to be even more of a mess afterwards. It always was._

_Draco licked a long, languid line up his throat, causing Ron to involuntarily moan. He was a little embarrassed by all the sounds Draco always pulled out of him. Did people really sound like that when… His mind reeled._

_”When are you going to let me fuck you for real?” Draco whispered into his ear and snickered as Ron turned crimson, resembling a ginger haired beetroot in colour._

_He felt his mouth go dry._

_”We’ve talked about that… I’m t-telling you, having something shoved up there can’t be n-nice…” He squeezed his eyes shut more firmly._

_”You mean having my dick in your arse, we’re not five years old so there’s no reason to beat around the bush about it,” Draco drawled matter-of-factly and kissed down Ron’s jawline._

_Ron opened his eyes at that to look into Draco’s stormy grey. Draco didn’t meet Ron’s gaze right away, he was still busy placing tiny kisses on his freckled skin. When he did look up though, his eyes gleamed and a teasing smirk played across his lips._

_”Aren’t you scared?” Ron asked incredulously. His sweaty hands fumbled nervously with the fabric of Draco’s shirt, gathering fistfuls. His gaze dropped, unable to maintain the eye contact._

_Draco put his forefinger under Ron’s chin._

_”Weasley, look at me.” He tilted Ron’s chin a tiny bit upwards so he had no choice but to look into those steel grey eyes again. Draco made Ron ache with want but he could also sometimes be really scary. The thrill was sort of hot, actually, but Ron really was afraid of what Draco wanted. He had been proposing it for a while now._

_”There’s no reason to be afraid,” said Draco gently, his thumb grazing over Ron’s chin. ”You’re going to love it, I know.”_

_Ron pressed their foreheads together and enjoyed how Draco’s clever fingers landed on the nape of his neck instead. ”If it’s so enjoyable how come it’s not the other way ’round? Why do you have to be…” He stumbled around the words, not really wanting to say it._

_”Because I want you,” Draco continued simply in the low, deep voice he tended to use when they were together like this and it bended Ron’s brain how much he liked it. It sent shivers down his spine. Draco’s hands moved south and Ron moaned a little as the hands squeezed his bum._

_”Who’ve you done it with?” He wanted to know. Ron was both curious and a little jealous that somebody had done all this with Draco already. At least once it had happened, earlier in the year. Draco had told him._

_Draco snickered again. ”Wouldn’t you like to know?”_

_”I would actually… Fuck…” Ron gasped as the Slytherin’s hands undid his trousers and clasped around his cock._

_There was no time to be wasted. Ron’s mind turned blank as Draco kissed him while his wonderful fingers worked their own magic, stroking him in long, firm movements. He couldn’t help how his hips thrusted into the touch and how his own hands grabbed Draco’s pale skin at the sides of his slender body. His touch was so hard and firm it would most likely leave bruises and it got him even harder knowing it would. That Draco would have a bit of him imprinted on his skin for a couple of days. His skin tingled with desire and he wanted to return the favour, wanted them to come together, but Ron couldn’t concentrate on anything—_

_”I want you,” Draco repeated against his mouth in a hushed voice and sped up his strokes. Ron was about to fall apart. He couldn’t say anything even if he wanted to. Instead, he kissed back furiously, trying to quell the ridiculous sounds slipping out of him. His hands flew up to cup Draco’s face. He was so close, fucking hell. Just a little more, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop…_

_”Shit!” He exclaimed a little too loudly, shivering when it was all over. Draco’s fingers were wet with… that… and he felt a little embarrassed by it. Just as usual._

_”I want you too,” he panted, all sweaty and deliciously flushed._

”Ron?”

”Fuck off, Harry. Seriously.”

Harry laughed and plopped down in his seat again. Ron’s head shot up and noticed Harry had a new brightness in his emerald eyes and his cheeks were a little pink. He kept looking over at the bar counter and he had a new beer bottle too.

”Don’t let Gin catch you looking like that,” Ron muttered.

”Like what? Merlin, it’s warm in here, don’t you think?”

”Blimey Harry.” Ron groaned and rubbed at his eyes. ”Don’t you think I notice you drooling over that bar girl? I hope Ginny gives you another scar.”

”It’s not like that.” Harry smiled and sipped his beer. ”Just a little flattered, is all… Been a long time since somebody wanted my autograph…It’s just nice she was pretty… Didn’t you think so?”

”Fuck’s sake. A minute ago you moaned about writing autographs.”

”Well, let’s just say she was nothing like Colin Creevy during our second year.”

Ron snorted and then both of them broke out in laughter before falling into another awkward silence. Colin had died in the war. They’d never mentioned him before. Sitting here in a pub in Diagon Alley on a regular Friday while darkness fell outside doing just so felt strange. 

Something caught Ron’s eye and he blinked. Looking over Harry’s shoulder, he suddenly was aware of a figure sitting in a dark corner. His white-blond hair stuck out like a sore thumb and Ron recognised him easily.

Bloody hell.

_”Malfoy?” _Realising he had said it out loud, Harry looked over his shoulder too and saw exactly what Ron saw too. He turned back to Ron and hissed:

”What’s he doing here?”

”No clue,” Ron said honestly. ”Who’s he with?”

Draco was talking to someone, and Ron couldn’t see who it was. He desperately wanted to know.

”Does it matter?” Harry said impatiently under his breath. ”I thought he went into hiding!”

There’d been tons of rumours about the Malfoys after the battle of Hogwarts. Ron had tried not to listen to them all, but he had worried and couldn’t help listening in on all the gossip. How the Malfoys had gone into hiding, completely disappearing. Lucius had been pardoned for his crimes and didn’t have to go to Azkaban but the Malfoy name was stained with shame and people weren’t treating them very well. There was a lot of rubbish talk. _Too _much Ron thought. He didn’t care in the slightest about Lucius and Draco’s Mum but Draco… He’d been born into that blasted family and their opinions had been forced onto him, nothing had been his fault. He’d grown up to think in a certain way. He didn’t deserve all the rubbish people were throwing at him. Not that he could tell anyone that. He hated how he let people carry on with it, Harry included. Ron’s hands balled into fists before he could stop them and he looked desperately over Harry’s shoulder, trying to catch as many glimpses of the blond as he could.

”Stop staring,” Harry advised. ”Before he sees us. We should go.”

”Go ahead. I need to use the loo.”

Harry shot him a hesitant look but he rose from his seat.

”I’ll meet you outside then.”

Ron nodded and waited for Harry to head out the door before he did anything. Looking over his shoulder to make sure Harry really was nowhere to be seen, he firmly got to his feet, eyes set on Draco and his company.

As he walked across the dimly lit room with the dark interior and smoky air he realised the person sitting opposite Draco was female. It wasn’t Pansy Parkinson, that much he knew. But other than that, the woman was a total stranger to him.

And for some reason she made him a tad jealous. Or a lot, in fact. Her curly dark hair was so long, it touched the small of her back. Draco shot her a tiny smile and put his hand over hers on the table. The sight of it almost made Ron’s blood boil. Jealousy and anger was searing through him and he wondered what had gotten wrong with his brain that made him act like this.

He coughed lamely as he got up to their table.

Draco’s grey eyes widened as he looked up and met Ron’s blue.

”Eh… canwetalk?!”

Ron spoke a little too fast for Draco to really be able to pick up the words. He wasn’t sure about the former Slytherin’s reaction, if he would be rejected publicly or not. His female company gazed unsympathetically up at Ron and his cheeks reddened under her judgement. If she had any. Ron wondered if she knew who he was, if she noticed the red hair and figured it out. But she wouldn’t know about his history with Draco so would it matter?

Draco’s hand was still atop hers on the table.

”Please.”

Ron hated how desperate he sounded. Hated how Draco could make him plead like that.

Draco turned to the young woman.

”Excuse me,” he said to her and shot her an apologetic smile. ”I’ll be right back, darling.”

”Take your time.” She smiled back.

Draco wasn’t happy when he pushed the pub’s backdoor open and more or less forced Ron through it. The door led out to some sort of alleyway where the rubbish containers were and it reeked of something foul out there. Ron wanted to warn Draco about Harry being outside waiting for him but the blond put up privacy wards before he could open his mouth. Once he was done, Draco turned and his eyes shot daggers in the way they bore into Ron. 

”You’ve got a lot of nerve approaching me like that Weasley,” he spat. ”What, are you stalking me now?”

Ron was about to lose his temper too. ”Yeah, that’s what I’m doing, _stalking _you. Bloody hell, Malfoy.” He ran a hand furiously through his red hair. ”All I want is to talk.”

”Forget it.”

”I can’t.” Ron folded his arms over his chest and stared down at the filthy ground. ”We have too much between us for that.”

He winced at how sad he sounded when the words left his mouth. Ron hadn’t meant for it to sound so… small. He looked up. ”Who’s the woman in there?”

Draco ran a hand over the left arm of the impeccable black robes he was wearing and removed invisible lint from it with a delicate pinch of his pale, skinny fingers. It was clear he wouldn’t answer that.

Stubborn git.

”Who, Malfoy?” Ron implored.

Draco actually smirked hearing the somewhat desperate demand in Ron’s voice. For a minute, he looked exactly like he used to when they were in school together. ”Jealous, are you?”

”No.” Ron sighed and threw his hands up in defeat. ”It’s none of my business obviously. I shouldn’t have asked. Look, I just want one little talk. Then I’ll fuck off out of your hair and everything. Promise. I—” He closed his eyes. ”I loved you, Draco. Which is fucked-up obviously, but… I did.”

Draco got something strange in his eyes. ”You never told me that.”

Ron’s lips curved into a small smile. ”I never got the chance you shithead.”

”I definitely understand why Granger loves you. So romantic. She must adore all your sweet nicknames.”

”Yeah, and everyone’s just clamouring over you, eh? Can’t wait to get into your pants and all that.”

Draco looked away. ”Both you and I know Weasley how things are nowadays. I don’t exactly have a crowd anymore. I took a great risk by coming here tonight. I assume most people would prefer my head on a stick. Nobody dares to step forward and do it though.”

Ron fought hard not to reach out his hand and touch him. Draco looked so small and hurt and something deep down in Ron’s belly twitched unpleasantly when he saw that. Instead, he focussed his gaze on his shoes.

”Fucking hell,” he swore. ”That’s loads of rubbish. It’s been two years. You can’t punish yourself forever for mistakes happening in your past.”

”No, because that’s already something you do so well.”

”Obviously.” Ron grinned a little. ”Self-loathing’s sort of my thing. Should’ve had it patented.”

Draco made a sound that could have been a small snicker or a snort of some sort. Ron wasn’t sure.

”So, how ’bout that talk?” He asked again. ”Because, Malfoy, you do actually owe me. We had—”

”I know what we had!” Draco snapped. ”And no, Weasley, for Salazar’s sake. You can’t always get what you want. Leave me alone. I have tried to make myself as clear as I possibly can for you, but obviously you are too damn dense. Leave. Me. Alone. Goodbye, Weasley.”

Without a word more, Draco pushed past him and headed back inside. Ron seemed frozen again and hated himself for not stopping him. Why did he always do this to himself?

Besides, since when did he always get what he wanted?

_Why can’t you leave Draco alone?_

It’s been too many years.

_”I’m tired of this.”_

_Ron flopped down backwards onto the soft bedspread. The fabric beneath him was so comfy, it felt as though he was lying on a cloud. He bounced lightly up and down, knowing he was being watched by a pair of grey eyes._

_And he liked it._

_The Room of Requirement was such a funny room. It changed all the time, which Ron was still flabbergasted over. When he was here with the DA it looked like one type of room but now, when he was here with Draco, it looked like another. It had a bed. A real fucking bed. That was so much more comfy than his own back in the dorms._

_Maybe it was risky taking Draco here. He didn’t really care, to be honest. He just wanted to be alone with him and he was so tired of empty classrooms and broom closets and whatnot. It was a miracle he hadn’t developed claustrophobia yet._

_”Tired of what, Weasley?” Draco sat down on the edge of the bed next to him. He patted the sheets by Ron’s thigh. Even though he wasn’t really touching Ron, it still burnt knowing he was so close._

_”Hiding.” Ron spoke up to the ceiling. ”It’s hard pretending we’re not when you know we are.”_

_”Having fun?” Draco raised an amused eyebrow or so Ron imagined he did. He couldn’t see it._

_”If this counts as having fun, then yeah, I suppose,” Ron said with a laugh. He propped himself up on his elbows and gave Draco an inquisitive look. ”Wouldn’t you like to be more open? Or do you like how Pansy drools over you?” He cocked his head and threw the Slytherin a lop-sided smile._

_Once again, Draco got something weird in his eyes and looked away. Ron stopped smiling. What, did he say something wrong now? It felt like he always said something wrong. He couldn’t stop worrying Draco would throw him away. Get tired of him._

_Ron didn’t want that. He never wanted Draco to be tired of him._

_He was about to panic, but Draco suddenly changed his position and straddled Ron instead. His stormy grey eyes gleamed when he took hold of Ron’s wrists in a firm grip and pushed him back onto the mattress. Ron could easily manoeuvre Draco if he wanted to, he was stronger, but he actually liked when Draco was like this so he let him.  
Draco’s face inched closer until their noses touched._

_”You talk too much, Weasley,” he decided. ”Shut up.”_

_Ron did. He lost himself in all the warmth and all the kissing and all of everything._

_They would figure something out._

_He shouldn’t worry about it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: With the holidays quickly approaching, I don't know if I will be able to make a new update for this story before the next year. I also wanted this chapter to be a little longer but I currently have such a horrible cold for what feels like the five hundredth time this fall (perks of having a kid in preschool, to be honest) so I didn't have the energy xD 
> 
> Thank you for reading and loving this story! It's definitely my favourite one I've written so far and to share it with all of you is a joy. If I don't update until January, I wish you all a good holiday. <3 *virtual hugs and cookies*


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mentions of underage sex and underage drinking.

_Hogwarts 1995_

_”I’m sorry.”_

The words were spoken quickly and left Draco’s mouth before he could stop them. When he finished, he felt hotness spreading over his cheeks and his gaze dropped to the floor.

Chancing a look at the other boy again after the rather awkward silence that fell between them, Draco saw creased coppery eyebrows and blue eyes slightly narrowing as if Weasley had difficulties to take in what Draco was saying.

”What?”

”You heard me, Weasley.” Draco turned so his back was facing the redhead. ”I will not repeat myself.”

A few more moments of silence passed. Weasley made a weird noise. Draco had to look. What now?

It took him a few seconds to realise the redheaded freckled boy was… laughing. A sort of feeble, silent laugh that wasn’t quite a laugh, more of a chuckle maybe. His arms trembled a little, still folded over his chest.

Draco scowled.

”You’re being rude, Weasley. Do you do that to everybody who says that to you?”

”Says what?”

”You know what.”

”Nope.” Ron’s expression went serious again. ”It’s fine, I just— Suppose I never thought you had it in you. Just surprised.” He smiled a little. ”But I’ll take it. Thanks. I— I appreciate it, Malfoy.”

”You better. It’s a rare opportunity.”

”Figures.” Ron snorted.

Draco didn’t like to admit it, but after the weird incident in the detention classroom where Weasleybroke down crying (Draco could still not believe that happened) and Draco said those two little words that made him squirm thinking about, something changed. Much like that night when they were caught drunk eating in the kitchens, they started to have… _fun._

Of course, Draco wouldn’t admit it. Fun with the Weasel, no way. The earth must be flat because there was a snowball’s chance in hell he would ever have fun with someone so poor and ill-dressed, not to mention all-too-moody… But the sudden change of their attitudes towards one another at least when nobody else was watching made their detentions together more… pleasant. Tolerable, at least. To the point Draco actually began helping Ron wash off the cauldrons and when they had bathroom duties, he didn’t moan that much when Weasley insisted Draco should _at least _mop the floors. He then had laughed when Draco was being sarcastic about it and thrown a rather disgusting washcloth hitting Draco in the head which ultimately broke out into a full-blown water-fight. The boys lavatory ended up even more messy than when they started and professor Snape gave them an earful for it and threatened to give them detention well into the next year. Instead, they only got a few more hours added to their already existing ones, and they needed to start over with the bathroom cleaning. It was okay though.

Slowly but surely they got to know one another too. It was another thing Draco thought never would happen. Certainly, Draco knew a thing or two about the Weasleys and it was things he’d so loved teasing Weasley about and mock him for. His father had told him all about the Weasley family long before Draco came to Hogwarts, how they were nothing more than poor, filthy blood traitors. Draco had truly believed his father’s every word and he already hated Ron so much he set his teeth on edge seeing him for the first time on the Hogwarts Express when they were eleven. He’d been sitting opposite Potter when Draco along with Crabbe and Goyle had uninvited walked right into their compartment. Draco had been curious; everybody had been talking about the great Harry Potter on the train, there had been lots of whispers and he wanted to see for himself if it was true. It all seemed so pathetic now, but back then he had been _impressed, _Potter was a celebrity, he was famous, the only survivor of the Killing Curse. Much like any other child in their world, Draco had of course heard all about him. Draco liked to associate with people of importance and Potter had definitely been one of importance. It had been rather strange though, that Weasley had gotten to Potter before Draco did, which he hadn’t liked. He still remembered clear as day when he introduced himself to Potter for the first time on the train:

_’My name’s Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.’_

Draco had scowled because the only reply to that had been Weasley sniggering, trying and failing to hide it with a cough. He had been so incredibly rude, which of course, was not surprising given his poor upbringing. Draco had wanted to say something back, put the nasty boy into his place.

_’Think my name’s funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles and more children than they can afford.’_

Which was true. Draco’s father knew Ron’s Dad from the Ministry. Lucius used to talk over dinner every time he had been doing business at the Ministry in an irritated voice in the Manor’s large dining room how Arthur Weasley was an utter failure in life and how he and his wife had too many filthy and miserable children. That they lived in a pigsty and they were a disgrace to the British Wizarding world. Lucius and Draco’s mother both agreed that the Weasleys lived in complete anarchy and it was most shameful they refused to live by the proper rules to what makes a true wizard.

_’The Weasleys are nothing more than muggle-infatuated blood traitors, they have these strange ideas that our kind shouldn’t be kept to ourselves, that we should engage in- marry! Those blasted muggle-borns… It makes me sick, Narcissa… They allow these mudbloods into Hogwarts, like it’s nothing! What has the world come to! I do not want my son to have his education there if things do not change. And things most certainly will not change with Dumbledore in charge. Now Durmstrang Institute— They are role models. I’d like my son to have his magical education there. Only the finest wizards, no muggleborns… It’s perfect for our Draco…’_

Draco’s mother had never wanted him to attend Durmstrang though. It had been too far away from home, so much to his father’s reluctance, Draco had started his first year at Hogwarts. The night before boarding the Hogwarts Express for the first time, Draco’s father had yet again given him a long lecture on that whatever he did, he should stay away from the Weasleys.

That had always been the recurring theme in their household.

Stay away from the Weasleys.

Stay away from the Weasleys.

Stay. Away. From. The. Weasleys.

Draco hadn’t been quite satisfied with telling Weasley off by recognising his low social class when they met that first time on the train, showing him who was superior just the way his father taught him. He had wanted something more. The malice had sparked within him at the age of eleven in the same way it did now, when he was fifteen. That and he had absolutely hated how Weasley was with Potter; but Potter had of course back then, not known what an awful Wizarding family the Weasleys were. Having grown up with muggle relatives, Potter didn’t know anything about the Wizarding World. Draco had wanted to help.

So he had said the one thing he could think of back then, both squashing Weasley and telling Potter in the same breath what’s what:

_’You’ll soon find out some Wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.’_

He’d reached out his hand to the dark-haired boy but Potter had merely looked at him with narrowed, angry eyes behind round spectacles and refused to take it _(’I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks’)_. It had been rather embarrassing and from that moment on, Draco had decided that Potter was nothing more than a piece of shit. Siding with Weasley, what a fucking loser.

_’… Unless you are a bit politer you’ll go the same way as your parents. They didn’t know what was good for them either…’_

Weasley had had the audacity to stand up then, to dare him to repeat what he said. As if he challenged him to a fight. That was the first time Draco realised what a savage Weasley was. Potter had been right behind him.

Draco’s eyes had then fallen on the seats- Potter and Weasley had been having so many sweets. He hadn’t felt even remotely threatened by the two angry boys- Crabbe and Goyle had not exactly been small back then and could have easily taken on both of them. Weasley had actually leapt forward when Goyle bent down trying to take some of the Chocolate frogs, but then the large boy had yelped in pain as Weasley’s awfully ugly rat had bitten his finger. It had been disgusting. Draco didn’t like rats. They had departed the compartment after that.

His father would never forgive him if he saw Draco now. Treating Weasley as an… _equal._ Sure, it was only in detention when they were alone. He wouldn’t dream of showing any friendship to him when they were being watched by curious eyes. Weasley seemed to feel the same way; every time they went up for lunch or parted to go to sleep when detention was over for the day, they always walked out of the classroom and picked up their wands one by one. Never did they say goodbye or goodnight or see you later or anything as perhaps Weasley would say if it was somebody else. _Never._

Never had Draco known Weasley as… _Ron, _either. Never known his hobbies or secrets or even trifle things like favourite colour. He suspected it was orange though, Weasley was infatuated with the Chudley Cannons. Draco teased him mercilessly for it. They were the worst Quidditch team! But Weasley’s eyes went all soft when he talked about them and he got a goofy smile on his face. Or, when he and Draco got into hectic discussions about their favourite teams, Weasley would flail his arms up and down, almost as if he was hoping to fly all while talking about the Cannons with such energy it was hard not to _almost _smile at that. Almost.

Here and there were little confessions too, as the days ticked by and they got braver and braver in each other’s company. Draco blurted one day that he thought Umbridge was an absolute bitch. Ron had looked immensely confused at that.

”Why? I thought… well…” he fidgeted a little and Draco noticed his freckled cheeks reddened before his head disappeared in yet another cauldron he was cleaning, a particularly gross batch had been awaiting them when they came down to the dungeons tonight.

_It feels like it’s all we fucking do. Cleaning cauldrons._

Draco raised a pale eyebrow. ”What? That I love her and she loves me, that sort of thing?”

”A little,” Ron admitted, voice echoing from inside the iron walls. He looked up and for a split second he looked hopeful. ”So, d’you reckon what she does is wrong? All her… You know?”

The Slytherin didn’t answer right away. ”I don’t care for what she does,” he said finally after a short moment of silence. He didn’t say that he thought Potter _especially,_ deserved everything he’d heard she gave him, the punishments and her special quill treatment. That would have ruined the moment, where Draco and Weasley actually had a connection. Ron gave him another funny look, but dropped the subject.

_What was he hoping I’d say, really?_

They had things in common, too. Apart from they both loved Quidditch very much to an almost ridiculous level, they both apparently loved a good game of chess, too. Once again, Weasley’s eyes lit up when he talked about it.

”There’s no one I haven’t beaten once I worked my skill up, even my oldest brother Bill and he’s really good and remember in first year when I was awarded all those points for def—”

Weasley stopped himself mid-sentence and blushed again, as if he realised he said something he shouldn’t be saying. Draco remembered very well how Weasley was awarded fifty points for defeating McGonagall’s chess set at the age of eleven. He had thought it was pathetic then; it was just chess, not anything spectacular. Besides, had it really been any proof of it happening? Draco was hit with the sudden urge of wanting to taunt him again but restrained himself from doing so.

”Perhaps we can compare our skills some time,” Draco said instead, hoping _he _didn’t sound pathetic for suggesting such thing.

”Yeah, maybe,” Ron answered thoughtfully.

Weasley talked about how it was growing up in a large family. How it was fun, there was always someone to talk to. But it was also annoying to never be alone. _Never._

”Forget about using the bathroom when you have a sister,” he said one day. ”Bloody Ginny were in there all summer long and I don’t even know what she was doing. She looked the same when she came out. And Fred and George always doing some dodgy shit that has Mum in a frenzy and Charlie and Bill have each other… Like it’s fun having them ’round and all but sometimes I do feel alone too, y’know? Like I’m the odd one out…”

”I wish I had a brother or a sister,” Draco thought aloud. It was partially true. He liked having his parents undivided attention but they always expected so much of him it felt like a burden. As a child the expectations had been to be polite and have top marks in school but as he got older the demands of how he should and shouldn’t be had been higher and higher.

Ron raised his eyebrows, surprised. ”Yeah? I’d lend you one of mine if I could…” He smiled a little crooked smile.

”A Weasley? I’ll manage just fine without, thanks.”

Ron snorted. ”And here I thought you were starting to warm up to us. You seem to like me enough…” Then he realised what he said and his blue eyes fluttered nervously. ”Sorry, I— I don’t know why I said that.”

”I’ll let it slide.” Draco turned away so Weasley wouldn’t see the faint pink tint forming on his cheeks. Because it was true. He _did _start, slowly but surely, to warm up to the other boy. Hell, Draco may or may not have caught himself missing Ron these days between detentions. When he saw Weasley with Potter and Granger, Draco caught himself of wanting to switch out one of them and take their place. Or be alone with Weasley altogether. It was infuriating and he knocked it down and pretended it didn’t happen every time a thought like that came up in his mind. He seemed to knock down feelings so often it felt like a chore, an everyday repetition. Which was very much needed, too. He should’t be thinking such things.

_Just because you get along when you’re alone… It doesn’t mean anything. Stop being jealous of them. Stop being jealous of him._

It couldn’t be anything else, Draco reasoned. Weasley had many emotions indeed, but one thing Draco noticed was how he always seemed to really enjoy life. His general attitude seemed fairly easygoing, which Draco wished was a trait he too possessed. Being from a high society family had its prize. He couldn’t just be anyone he wanted.

But Weasley could.

Draco avoided looking at Weasley as much as he could when they were in public. It could create questions otherwise, questions he did not have any answers to whatsoever.

”Perhaps I feel alone sometimes too.” Draco muttered more to himself than to Ron. It was Thursday, the last Thursday of their detention. It was almost over. They’d nearly made it. Once again, the white-blond Slytherin knocked away the irritating feeling that he would miss Ron. _Weasley, _he corrected himself bitterly. He wouldn’t miss Weasley or their talks at all. In fact, he couldn’t wait to go back to their old roles and forget all of this.

_Right._

”Eh?” Ron looked over his shoulder. He had been standing with his back facing Draco, which was probably why Draco dared to say anything at all.

”You said a couple of days ago that you… well… feel alone sometimes in your family. Perhaps I do as well… in mine.” Draco felt his cheeks turn hot. _Fuck._

”Oh.” The tips of Weasley’s ears turned faintly red. He put down the large yellow sponge he was holding, soap still foaming from it, and turned around to look at Draco. Except that he didn’t really, he was staring at a spot behind Draco’s shoulder. ”Right, yeah, I totally get that.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. ”No, you don’t,” he said coolly. ”You don’t know anything about me, Weasley.”

Ron eyes went from looking at the random spot to look into Draco’s silver eyes. ”No, you’re right. I don’t. The things I _do _know about you aren’t that nice, I suppose.” He looked away quickly after the finished sentence, focussing on the random spot behind Draco again.

”No, I suppose I’m not a pleasant person to be around,” Draco said quietly, watching Weasley’s freckled hands cling to the edges of the table as he leant his back against it.

”Well, it’s not… I mean, you’ve always picked on me for starters,” said Ron. ”You’re not really nice to any of us. All your friends are horrible.” His blue eyes darted a little nervously around the empty classroom, gaze landing on the walls, the stone floor and the black board behind Draco. Ron’s ears had turned a terrible shade of reddish-pink at the words falling out of his mouth too, and his eyebrows creased sadly.

”Why, thank you,” Draco replied snidely, feeling himself tense. To have something to do, he folded his arms over his chest and gave Weasley a long, harsh look which he seemed to ignore. ”Sorry not all of us have such perfect friends as you.”

Ron tilted his head to the left. ”Didn’t mean it that way. Sorry, I—” He shut his eyes for a short moment before snapping them open again, letting out a long breath. ”It’s weird, all of it. But I— Before you tried blaming everything on me to Snape the night we got detention… I actually had fun with you. And since we… began talking here instead of just hating one another all the time, I’ve hadfun too, so… You don’t _have to _be all that bad, y’know.”

_Damn it, Weasley._

Draco didn’t know what to respond to that. It was his turn to look away now. Why did it feel like it was all they did? Looking at each other, then look away, then looking again once either of them felt brave, then away. More away then actual looking at each other, he supposed. The air around them felt non-existent and Draco started developing a headache. He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. Turning himself away from Ron, he went back to cleaning almost manically. He felt the burn of Weasley’s stare on his back for a few moments but when he dared to look over his shoulder to see what the redhead was doing, he’d turned away from Draco too.

The next day, Draco woke up with a heavy feeling in his chest. Last Friday of their detention.

’_No,’ _he told himself decidedly as he put his naked soles on the cold floor and reached for his neatly folded clothes on the stool next to his bed. _’You won’t miss Weasley. He’s brainwashed you into liking him. Thinking that you’re friends. It’s disgusting. He’s weak and poor. Ugly. Blood traitor and just as Mudblood-infatuated as his father. Stop trying to think any differently.’_

”Ah, Draco,” Theodore Nott greeted once Draco made his way into the Slytherin common room, which was empty apart from Nott. He was standing in front of the green fire, warming himself. Theodore Nott was a good-looking boy Draco had been friends with on and off since childhood. He had brown, wavy hair and hazel eyes. ”Last day of detention, yes? Then you’re a free man?”

”Yes, that should be the case,” Draco drawled, leaning forward against the back to one of the armchairs, taking in the tall figure in front of him. He never seemed to tire of it. Nott was not only a childhood friend, he’d been the main subject of Draco’s discovery in who he really was. When they were small boys, before they attended Hogwarts, they’d been playing with Draco’s toys in his room at the Manor one day and as Nott’s hazel eyes locked into Draco’s, he had felt the strangest tingling sensation deep down in his belly.

It was the first time he’d ever been in love.

As they got older, Theodore seemed to grow hotter, taller with an intense gaze in his brown eyes and Draco began to have harder and harder to fight his feelings. Especially since they were both sorted into Slytherin and could spend as much time as they liked together between classes. The Slytherins often organised parties in the common room and one time someone snuck in Firewhisky, Draco got so drunk he couldn’t restrain himself anymore. He had dragged Nott up to his dorm when everybody was busy with laughing at something and didn’t pay any attention if someone snuck away, and when they finally were alone, Draco kissed Nott vigorously as if it was their last day on earth and he just had to do it. Draco knew he had taken a great risk by doing so and he was fully expecting to be slapped or laughed at or both. When his kiss was answered with almost the same force as Draco had given and Theodore pinned him to Draco’s bed and took both his breath and innocence away that night, his mind and heart had been singing, making Draco wondering if this was how true happiness felt like.

Something in Draco’s belly turned at the memory as he appreciated Nott from behind. Their drunken liaison had happened earlier this year, sometime in October.

They had done nothing more since. Nobody knew Draco was gay and he made Theodore swear not to say anything about them to a soul. They weren’t a couple and acted as only friends in front of everybody else. Draco didn’t know if he was really in love anymore either. The feelings seemed to only last until they did what they did together. Not that his first experience was bad, because it hadn’t been. He just didn’t seem to be enamored anymore.

Theodore Nott was still hot as fuck though.

The boy turned to Draco as though he had felt the blond staring at him. He walked over, his head turning both left and right to make sure nobody was truly there. The walls in the common room tended to have ears.

”Maybe we can celebrate later on,” Nott suggested, leaning in closer to Draco. Not close enough to kiss, but closer nonetheless. ”Been thinking about you since—”

”Not here!” Draco said tartly and shot up from his bent position. ”We’ll see. _Perhaps_.”

”All right,” Theodore shrugged and dropped his gaze. Draco didn’t know if it was his imagination or not when he saw hazel eyes flash briefly in disappointment. The boy bit his lower lip. ”I’ll wait for you tonight though,” Theodore continued in a low voice. His thumb reached out to graze over the back of Draco’s hand gently, quickly, before he pulled it away. ”When you come back from the detention, I’ll be here. We can talk in more private then. Or not…” He shot him a filthy grin. Draco then decided he had probably imagined the disappointment.

Nott’s suggestion made it easier to go through the day too, Draco had to admit that. As he endured lesson after lesson while Pansy clung annoyingly to his arm when they walked to their classes together, the filthy images of Nott naked and panting invaded his head and pushed away any thoughts of the Weasel.

Up until it was time for lunch and he accidentally caught Ron’s eye in the crowd as he took his place at the Slytherin table and the redhead sat down almost at the same time by the Gryffindor table. Their eyes were in line with each other and in the blink of an eye Ron gave a quick, small smile before turning his head. Had that been meant for him? Nobody seemed to have seen it and something else twitched inside him, something that he didn’t think had been there before, or he had just chosen to ignore it.

Either way, it was irritating and it shouldn’t be there.

Draco ate lunch without tasting it. Afterwards, he told Theodore they needed to talk before the afternoon lessons, leading him into the boys lavatory into an empty stall. There, inside the small, confined space, he kissed him hotly, hoping Nott’s warm lips, soft brown hair and clever hands would help the atrocious tingling sensation Draco briefly experienced in the Great Hall thirty minutes before when Weasley had shot him that smile, go away and hide forever. 

_Where in the name of Salazar Slytherin did these feelings come from?_

Racing teenage hormones, Draco thought as he reluctantly dragged his feet to detention in the dungeons that evening. Yes, that must be the case. He was fifteen years old, of course he was hormonal. Naturally, developing from a boy to a man came with odd feelings (which must be why Weasley conjured such a strange spark within him for a split second, there was no other explanation); he recalled his mother briefly mentioning it once before she blushed and tended to her wine glass instead. The Malfoys never spoke of puberty and such. One kept to themselves when it came to private things like that. Not that Draco had that many questions. Waking up with erections every morning and dreaming things at night that sometimes left surprise stains on the sheets just seemed normal now. Thank Merlin for being a wizard and spell embarrassments away with a flick of his wand.

_'If Mother and Father only knew that I don’t dream of girls every night. That I never dream of them.’_

Ron was already in the classroom as Draco entered after giving up his wand to the professor outside the door. Snape had said nothing, except sharply pointing out Draco was a whole minute late.

”Apologies sir,” he’d muttered.

Weasley seemed to be in a great mood despite the mountain of exceptionally gross and sticky stuff to clean in front of them. Like the professor had saved it for them as a treat.

”Great news!” He exclaimed. ”Snape told me, we’re free after this! No detention tomorrow. Guess he doesn’t want to put up with us anymore. I don’t care, tomorrow I’ll sleep as long as I want. No more waking up fucking seven on a bloody Saturday.” Ron’s arms shot up victoriously in the air, stretching out his long body. Draco didn’t want to acknowledge just how long his body seemed; he wondered if it went on forever. He also pretended not to notice the slight gap of pink-pale, naked skin between the waistband and white shirt as Ron stretched out.

”Lovely,” Draco replied, twisting his mouth into what he hoped was a genuine smile and not something cool and bitter as he would usually do.

”Yeah…” Weasley’s arms fell down to his sides again. Draco heard clinking and clunking noises as he then searched the pile after something probably a little less gross and sticky to clean. Draco’s steel eyes looked at the pile from his position, leaning over one worktable to get a better look. He didn’t want to get his hands dirty without cause so he hoped he could decide what to begin with without digging around like Weasley so shamelessly did. His eyes fell on a large silver scoop that didn’t look as disgusting as anything else did when Ron’s fiery red hair reappeared into view.

”So, I sort of got an idea…” he began tentatively as he scrubbed the outside on what appeared to be a large empty and clear bottle. ”You said you wanted to play me. Chess. Well, d’you want to after this? To celebrate before we go back to our old lives?” Ron looked up, eyebrows raised.

”A friendly game?” Draco was in front of Weasley now, winkling the scoop out of the pile of dirty utensils used for the potions lessons.

Weasley’s eyes were sharp, lightened with competition. ”A challenge,” he declared. ”Compare skills like you said. But that’s not all. We’ll increase the difficulty. Turn it into a drinking game. What do you say, Malfoy?”

Draco froze in position, thinking it over. The invitation sounded tempting and _not _because Weasley had offered to spend more time with him. No, it was simply because Draco realised they were both competitive people and Draco knew very well how to play wizard’s chess. It would be an interesting match, to see who was the better player. And Draco thought he had a pretty good idea of who that would be.

”Fine,” he said, grey eyes going equally sharp. ”You’re on, Weasley. But how on earth are we going to get our hands on alcohol? Fancy to spend more time in detention?” He arched a pale eyebrow.

Ron snorted. ”No, we just have to make sure we won’t get caught, won’t we? Besides we won’t be if we stay the fuck out of the kitchens.”

Draco twisted the silver scoop in his hands, watching his blurry reflection in it. He was very glad he had put on a pair of thin gloves before handling this utter filth. ”So how do you plan on getting the alcohol then? It’s not like we can go to the pub—”

”Still got a bottle of Firewhisky hidden in the trunk in my dorm. We’ll use that.”

”Really? Where’d you get that?” Draco couldn’t help how curious he sounded. He looked up from what he was doing but Ron’s expression gave nothing away. The red-haired boy just shrugged and smiled a little.

”You’d be surprised how many fourth-years there are running around with them.”

”Hmm… So you just take them for yourself then instead of handing them in? How very…” Draco was about to say ’_how very naughty of you’ _but stopped himself because it sounded like a very peculiar thing to say. Like he was—

”So you’re not listening to Granger, then?” Draco said instead, cocking his head to one side. ”I recall her giving you quite a lecture when we first ended up in this blasted detention. Something about how you put your whole future at risk and the worst part was that you were doing it with me. Yes, something like that… Do you really want to upset your little girlfriend by playing some sort of drunken chess with me? What makes you think I wouldn’t be telling on you again? Trying to get you expelled?” 

Weasley’s coppery eyebrows furrowed. He glared at Draco, cheeks flushing hot.

”What’re you talking about? Hermione and I are not—” He pressed his pink lips tightly together. ”We’re just _not_!” Ron protested way too fast and way too loudly for someone who was just friends with a person. Draco felt his stomach drop and he felt involuntarily dejected. He could tell by Weasley’s glowing face and his body language -not to mention the tone in his voice- that it was clearly something more going on, regardless of Weasley wanting to admit it or not.

”Anyway, I don’t think you’d tell on me, not now,” Ron said suddenly, interrupting Draco’s train of thoughts. ”It’s strange I know, but suppose I sorta trust you now… We’ve been OK this past week, haven’t we? If you’d wanted me in trouble, I’d already be in it. Probably.”

”Probably?”

”Well, yeah. Probably,” Weasley confirmed with a nod. His blue eyes fixed into Draco’s grey. There was something mischievous sparkling in them, just like there had been that night they shared the bottle of Firewhisky that started this, leading up to this very moment, this very conversation.”So… Chess game later on, yeah? If you change your mind, I’ll take you for a chicken. We settle the rules together so it’s fair. Don’t tell anyone, I won’t tell anyone either. The winner gets something he always wanted. Something like that. Deal?”

”I thought we were only supposed to be comparing skills,” Draco pointed out dryly. This whole situation made him feel a little apprehensive but also weirdly entertained. There was something so fascinating with it all, he couldn’t put his finger on it to why that was.

_It’s only because you want to spend more time with him, you just don’t want to admit it._

No, that wasn’t it, Draco decided. He like competitions, enjoyed challenges. Especially if it was something he was good at and he _was _good at chess. Weasley might have beaten a giant chess set or so they said- but Draco was smart. Cunning.

”Yeah, but wouldn’t be fun without winning something, would it?” Ron asked, amused. ”Or are you scared?”

_Why would I be?_

”Of course not,” Draco drawled. ”Fine, have it your way. Prepare to go down, Weasley.”

Draco Malfoy was going to win. He wouldn’t have anything else.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron and Harry are sent to the Malfoy manor for an investigation.

“Remind me again, Harry, why we’re here.”

The rain hung heavy in the air from grey clouds. Ron shivered in his Auror’s robes, even though they were designed to repel cold weather. His stomach churned nervously, and he felt nauseated. He jumped up and down beside Harry in an attempt to stay warm. It was useless.

He knew why he was freezing.

The cold weather had nothing to do with it.

“Will you stop that?” Harry shot him an annoyed look. He shook the metallic bars with both hands in frustration. “Come on… They know they’re gonna have to let us in eventually. Why drag it out?”

The two Aurors stood outside the Malfoy Manor. It was Thursday morning and the world looked a boring mix between brown, grey and green. Not even the Manor managed to look beautiful in this weather. Ron suddenly longed for spring, sunshine and freshly cut grass. Having his naked feet against a soft green ground, running around at the Burrow, carefree and alive. It was all just wishful thinking. The moment he met Harry, those days were long gone.

_If I ever had days like that, considering how much Mum always forced me to work in the gardens._

Ron would much rather clean out his parents' gardens from gnomes the rest of his life if that meant he could get out of the current situation.

At the usual morning meeting at the Auror’s department in the Ministry, Kingsley had reminded Ron and Harry that it was time for the regular Malfoy Manor check-up. It was a demand from the Wizengamot in exchange for the Malfoys eluding Azkaban. Every six months a team of Aurors was sent out to the Manor to investigate and make sure they kept their toes on line. Ron had managed to avoid the visits since it pained him to see Draco and the place was full of bad memories, but today, he couldn’t. Harry had been on every mission there and often reported back to Ron how the Malfoys mostly kept away while the Aurors worked and he had barely seen Draco at all during the visits. Harry seemed to consider that a good thing.

It wasn’t that Ron didn’t _want_ to see him. Merlin knows he wanted it more than anything.

But not like this.

It was one thing seeing Draco in Muggle London and run into him in the pub. The Manor was a whole different matter.

So it was bloody weird to stand out here, waiting for somebody to open the gates.

“Come on…” Harry muttered beneath his breath, shaking the fence again. “Otherwise we have to break in.”

Ron had a feeling Harry wanted to anyway. The Malfoys still upset him and Ron couldn’t blame him for it. He knew deep inside, he should be more upset too. In fact, he should probably feel disgusted with himself for having had a relationship with the Malfoy heir for a brief time in school.

Harry didn’t know about it. Nobody knew except them. If they did, he was sure he wouldn’t have any friends or family left. It would never make sense to anyone ever that Ron and Draco had been together once. Ron barely knew if it made sense to him, either.

_But they never knew him like I did._

_And besides, you didn’t care about that back then, what everyone would think. All that mattered was him._

“Maybe they’re not at home,” Ron said after a while. “I don’t think we’re actually allowed to kick in the gates, Harry. Not worth losing our jobs over this.”

Ron barely finished the sentence before the gateways opened with a loud screeching noise almost hurting their ears.

“Thought they’d have house elves,” he continued, surprised. Harry shrugged and ran a hand through his dark hair.

The gardens in front of the large building were still kept in a pristine condition and the hedges surrounding the path they were walking on, were well-trimmed. They were green despite getting closer to winter. Magic really was a wonderful thing.

Ron tried to not think about the discomfort he was experiencing walking here, giving him a headache. He glanced at Harry as they walked and pondered over how he managed to do this twice a year. Ron himself had been permitted to stay away because it woke too many bad memories. Hermione was tortured here. People understood.

_But that’s not the only reason you don’t want to be here._

He shook the thought away. “How do you do this?” He asked instead, expressing the thought aloud. “They always send you.”

“Always wanted to send us both,” Harry said. “You know that right? We’re the experts, I suppose. At least I know that’s how Kingsley sees it.”

“I suppose.” Ron made a face. “I just hate it, Harry.”

Harry turned to him with concern in his eyes. “I know that, mate. I’m sorry, I didn’t think they’d put that on you.”

“They shouldn’t put that on you either,” Ron said, shoving his hands down the pockets of his robes. “PTSD and all that.” He suddenly remembered the fellytone numbers Hermione had put up on their fridge to all the therapists she wanted him to try. For the ’seasonal depression’. Hermione had only provided him numbers to Muggle ones because she knew how much he disliked the Healers at St Mungo’s, after they’d gotten into an argument when she first suggested them.

_’I’m there at least once a week, admitting some poor sixteen-year-old who’ve attempted illegal apparition or putting some loony in there who’s too unwell for Azkaban. People talk in this world, Hermione. If I go to the Healers for help, they’d all wonder if I’m mental. And then work would know in no time.’_

After that, Ron had found the numbers to the Muggle therapists pinned to their fridge before he convinced Hermione into thinking he didn’t need them. Come to think of it, he probably tried to convince himself too.

“All right…” Harry rubbed his hands together before pressing a finger to the doorbell. A long, depressing, buzzing sound was heard. They waited. Ron swallowed on a dry throat. He almost wished he could disappear.

“Good morning,” Harry greeted politely when the door opened. Ron almost winced, Mrs Malfoy stood in the doorway, her eyes tired and mouth in a firm line. “The sixth month check-up on the Malfoy Manor on order of the Wizengamot.” Harry held up their Auror identifications to her. “It shouldn’t take long.” Ron was almost impressed with how courteous Harry sounded, considering everything. He knew they _had_ to sound like that, which was pretty fucking awful.

“Of course,” Mrs Malfoy said, her voice strained. “Come in.” She stood aside and motioned for them to enter the Malfoy home.

It was dark in the hallway and the spooky aura made the hairs rise at the back of Ron’s head.

“I’ll be in the dining room, waiting. Let me know when you are finished and I will escort you out.” With a small nod as to confirm her own words, Mrs Malfoy went further into the building, leaving them alone.

“All right, mate?” Harry whispered. “I know this is hard but I thought we could split up. It’ll go faster, I think.” His eyes roamed over Ron’s face as if he was trying to search him for answers. Ron hoped he looked neutral and not as pale as he felt. Well, paler than usual, that was.

“Yeah, sure,” he nodded, sucking in his bottom lip and chewing it. “I’ll, uh, take upstairs, if that’s alright?” He jerked his head towards the staircase and realised he sounded a little hesitant. The walls seemed to be narrowing around them the longer they stood there and he needed to keep moving.

Harry didn’t seem to notice the faltering tone in Ron’s voice. He hummed in agreement and said he was going to search the ground floor.

“We’ll take the cellar together. If you can? Come meet me here when you’re done.”

Ron slowly drew in a breath and nodded. His palms were sweating; he wasn’t prepared for this.

_I hate this fucking place._

Ron took two steps at the time to reach the upstairs area faster. His heart pounded madly about in his chest.

Despite the hallway being equally dark to the one he’d just left behind, it seemed less creepy up here than down there. He almost felt bad for leaving Harry to do the ground floor, with Lucius hanging around. His stomach churned with worry again; Harry would have to scan the drawing room. Where they…. They… He squeezed his eyes shut. No, shut it out. _Shut it out._

_’Draco, look at him, isn’t it Arthur Weasley’s son, what’s his name —?_

_’Yeah… It could be…’_

_Ron wanted to scream for Draco to look at him. He was standing with his back to him and Ron just wanted him to fucking look at him, just once. Then maybe, if he did, he would be able to — Maybe he would have a change of heart._

_His ears were ringing, in front of him Bellatrix and Narcissa were arguing and he didn’t know what was going to happen. If they would make it out alive._

_They wouldn’t kill Harry, they needed him. But he and Hermione — What did they want to do with them? Ron’s brain had shut down completely; he could do nothing else than take in the scene while he was close to a panic attack. He couldn’t have a panic attack. He couldn’t._

_’Take these prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback.’_

_Bellatrix’ voice was so sharp it could cut through glass. ’Wait… All except… except for the Mudblood.’_

_Ron shouted before he could stop himself. No! You can have me, keep me!’_

Ron’s hand trembled when he finally took out his wand. Sweat stuck to his temples, his breathing was a little uneven. Ron leant against the wall in an effort to make the memories go away. He hated how weak he was, so typical he couldn’t block out a thing. He still had nightmares sometimes where Hermione screamed loudly in them and he writhed against the sheets in agony, bathing in his own sweat, until she woke him up and then spent hours calming him down.

_No! You can have me, keep me!’_

As Aurors on a mission in the Malfoy Manor, they were supposed to scan the floors and walls with their wands for anything suspicious. If the wand detected something, anything at all that was out of the ordinary, they were to bring the item to the Ministry for investigation and the Malfoys would face consequences. If it couldn’t be moved, they were supposed to alert a team to come here. It was stupid, Ron thought, as he walked slowly through the narrow hallway concentrating on casting the detection spell and keeping his thoughts away from the ugly memories of Hermione’s torturing and the youngest Malfoy in the building. _If _he was in the building.

Ron wore thin, black gloves to not leave any fingerprints of his own on anything in the Manor. That could cause him trouble if something wasn’t right. Everyone was a little apprehensive after the war. Two years had gone by and they still tried to piece their shattered world together and learning to live.

Ron’s eyes scanned every inch of the surface he could find. His blue eyes roamed over the walls, high ceiling, paintings and decorations. Everything seemed to be in the clear. He reached the far end of the corridor before deciding to make his way back going from room to room. The one on the right at the far end of the corridor was a bedroom. Ron stepped inside, looking around. He didn’t start scanning immediately. His gaze drifted over everything from the dark green carpeted floor, to the dark brown wallpapers and white painted ceiling, a black chandelier with matching black candles hanging in the middle of the room in front of a large four-poster bed with dark green curtains. A large bookcase going from floor to ceiling stood against one wall, a dark grey dresser against another. Ron walked up to it. A large photograph was sitting on the top, a family photo, Ron realised of Draco and his parents. There was nothing else there.

The room did not give away at all who lived there. No personal belongings except for the photograph could be seen anywhere. The walls were clean from any paintings, unlike the walls in the rest of the Manor. A few pillows matching the emerald bedspread laid on the bed. Ron carefully picked one up once he made his way to the bed and without being able to explain why even to himself, he lifted the pillow to his nose and inhaled the scent. He almost shuddered when he felt lemon and bergamot invading his nostrils.

It smelt just like _him_.

Was it here Draco laid his head every night? Was it in this bed he cuddled up, wrapping the sheets around him and pulling the curtains close? Ron had never seen Draco’s bedroom before. He almost felt a little dizzy and for a minute he forgot what his task was, why he was here.

_Was this even his room?_

“Weasley, what on earth are you doing?”

The sound of Draco’s famous drawl startled him and interrupted his thoughts. Ron threw the pillow back on the bed and turned around. Draco had a hard expression, silver eyes narrowed suspiciously and he was dressed all in black, white-blond hair the only thing sticking out in his features. He shut the door behind them. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m not trying to follow you or anything,” Ron blurted, feeling the tips of his ears redden. It felt as though he was caught doing something that wasn’t normal.

_Smelling other people’s pillows isn’t, mate._

“Work,” he said again, knowing he used a weird, reassuring tone, like a thief trying to convince the residents of the house he’d broken into that he was absolutely not trying to rob them on everything they owned. “Y’know, the Aurors… The —“

“Yearly check-up of the Manor?” Draco finished for him. “Yes, I know, Weasley. I wasn’t expecting they would send you. You never come. They only send Potter and people I don’t know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ron said, cheeks reddening now. Merlin, why was he so easily blushed? “I — They asked me this morning.”

Draco nodded and put his arms protectively over his chest. His gaze dropped to the floor. When he looked away, Ron felt a thousand emotions showering over him all at once. He wanted to… He just wanted to put an end to this, he decided. He’d been trying to reach Draco for years. Running into him twice now in a short period of time, that must be a sign of some sort. However, it seemed as though he was frozen to the floor. He couldn’t move.

But he needed to say something. Ron couldn’t have Draco walk away. Not now.

“Is this the bedroom you had as a kid?” Ron asked, wanting to kick himself. Was this the best he could do? “Hope you had a lot more things back then, you know, toys and stuff… Not many things here now. It’s a bit… impersonal.”

“I’m sorry it’s not all cluttered and dusty and full of previously owned things like I imagine yours was,” Draco drawled, tightening his grip around his own arms. Ron caught himself wanting to give him a hug. “I know you smelled my pillow, Weasley. I do not wish to know why. Anyway, shouldn’t you carry on working?”

Ron was suddenly hit with a rather wicked idea. He leapt forward, with a flick of his wand he had locked the door behind Draco.

“I will,” he said, turning to the annoyed man whose bedroom he’d invaded, “If you agree to talk. Right here, right now. I’ll leave you alone forever after that. I’ll quit the Aurors so I won’t ever have to come back here for God knows how long they’ll force you to agree to these bloody investigations. Just let me put closure to everything between us. I — I think I need that to move on, Draco.”

“I’m getting engaged,” Ron continued, tentatively stepping forward. “Or… I already am, I’m just… We’re just having the party. On Saturday. I just wanted you to know.”

Draco said nothing. He didn’t move either. The strange feeling of wanting to put his arms around him resurfaced. He shouldn’t. Ron knew he shouldn’t.

“It didn’t have to end this way, y’know…” he mumbled. “I was prepared, Draco. I really wanted to go through with everything. I packed. I waited for you. It was just… from one day to another. I really thought…”

“You thought wrong.” Draco’s voice was cold and harsh.

“Clearly,” Ron muttered.

“Besides, you know very well you couldn’t leave Potter and Granger. You were foolish for thinking that.”

“They would have been able to stop everything without me.”

_Not like I matter anyway._

“It was like you never knew me… like… _that. _I was hurt. Still am.”

Ron hated how his voice wavered, hated how sad and wounded he sounded. Hated how he wanted to just wrap his arms around the stupid git. The nausea returned, a nervous stir in the depths of his belly.

“You threw me away…” Ron whispered as a last weak retort. His gaze dropped to the floor; he couldn’t keep looking into Draco’s eyes. It hurt too much. Tears almost welled up in his eyes. He felt pathetic. It was only a matter of seconds until Draco would tell him he was, too. He closed his eyes, prepared for it.

The retort never came. Instead, Draco walked up to him and clawed his fingers into the sides of Ron’s shoulders. Ron didn’t dare to move. Draco hadn’t touched him in years.

“It was for your own good…” Draco’s voice was low and sullen and close to his left ear. “I don’t know what kind of answers you’re looking for, Weasley. I can’t give them to you.”

“Did you ever love me?” Ron dared to look up. Draco was so close their foreheads almost touched. The blond didn’t answer. Their eyes didn’t meet.

“You’re marrying Granger,” he said, fingers still resting on Ron’s shoulders. “You’re engaged and you’re marrying Granger. What we had together Weasley, doesn’t matter anymore.” Ron felt Draco’s fingers move over the fabric of his heavy Auror’s robes. He suddenly felt too warm in them. He wished he could feel Draco’s touches, but the material was too thick.

“It mattered to me.”

_Fuck. What if I still love you?_

Draco looked up now, too. “You know I was never going to go through with the plans we made, Weasley. I just fooled you. Let you believe that.”

“I don’t believe you. I _can’t_ believe you.” Ron’s voice was a whisper in the small space that was between them. Their foreheads were put together now, and he felt the heat from the other man’s skin. Draco was surprisingly warm against Ron. He felt like a teenage boy again.

A teenage boy that wanted to kiss the boy he was in love with.

“Ron?”

A voice called from the hallway outside.

Harry.

They let go of each other instantly. The distance grew large between them within seconds, as if they hadn’t been standing so close to each other at all.

“Here!” Ron called over his shoulder. He wanted to tell Draco to meet up with him later, but the faint ’pop’ sound reaching his ears told Draco Disapparated before Harry swung the door open.

“Fuck!” Ron swore beneath his breath. He couldn’t help the anger rushing through his veins. Harry ruined everything. He ruined… the moment.

_He also spared you from cheating on your girlfriend. Your fiancé. The woman you are supposed to marry next year._

“Are you done up here?” Harry asked. “You’ve been gone a rather long time now, thought I’d check so everything was okay… Everything _is _okay, right?” He looked a little worried.

“Yeah, fine,” Ron muttered. “Just a bit… Think I’ve got a bit of a migraine coming up. Is it all right if you just finish up here and I wait outside?” It was a horrible lie, and he hated himself for lying to his best mate. But he needed to get out of here. Out of this room if he couldn’t get out of the fucking house altogether.

“I’ll take care of the rest.” Harry patted him on the shoulder. “Go home and rest, Ron. Kingsley’ll understand. I think I can wrap everything up myself here anyway. I know we’re not supposed to, but… I know this place brings up horrible memories for you.”

“Yeah… Thanks, Harry,” Ron said weakly. “I appreciate it.”

Ron descended the stairs as quickly as he could. It felt wrong to leave Harry there, but the Malfoys were harmless nowadays with Voldemort gone. They wouldn’t do anything out of fear of going to Azkaban. As Aurors, they had tons of protection, too. Harry would be fine. At least, that was what Ron told himself.

He had almost hoped Draco would stand by the gates waiting for him. He wasn’t, of course. Ron threw the Manor a last look before he too Disapparated.

***

Grateful he had their flat to himself, Ron groped for his wand inside the pockets of his Auror’s robes without bothering taking off his shoes. He walked back and forth across the floor in the sitting room, leaving dirty footprints on the floor before making the decision to summon his Patronus. The happy Jack Russel shooting out from his wand always made him smile. He fucking loved that dog. Ron had to admit, he wanted a dog of his own. Hermione didn’t like dogs, she claimed they were dirty and would ruin their furniture. The only dog he ever got to see was that Patronus and sometimes he summoned it just to see it waggle its tail.

Which was a little corny.

“Find Draco Malfoy,” he ordered the dog. “Tell him I’d still like to talk. That I’m getting married soon and after that, it’ll be too late.” He thought for a brief moment. Draco couldn’t send a Patronus back. He didn’t have one. “Actually, tell him to come here. That I’m home from work alone today…” He gave him the address to the building and when he was satisfied, he sent the dog away.

Ron watched the dog jump through the wall, barking madly.

_Silly little thing._

Now all he could do was to wait. He glanced at the clock. Hermione wouldn’t be home until late tonight.

_Draco’s not going to show up. What the hell were you thinking?_

’At least I have to try,’ Ron thought aloud. He’d never sent his Patronus to Draco before. When he thought about it, it was really stupid the thought had never crossed his mind before. He always sent a Patronus to Hermione when she was in Scotland carrying all sorts of messages about how he missed her when she went back to Hogwarts to pick up her studies. He really _had_ missed her too. His heart had ached after her.

But it had ached for Draco more.

By lunchtime, he poured himself a glass of Firewhisky. Ron reasoned he needed it to calm his nerves. Harry had owled him earlier letting him know everything had gone well at the Manor and he hoped Ron would get well soon and that he’d see him at work tomorrow so they could catch up then. Ron ate some leftovers he found in the fridge for lunch that tasted of nothing and he poured himself two more glasses of Firewhisky before standing with his forehead against the bathroom tiles in the shower with his eyes closed, trying to calm down his upset stomach. Ron tried telling himself that he shouldn’t be this nervous, Draco wouldn’t show up anyway. Ron didn’t know where he’d went off to when he Disapparated but wherever it was, it was far from here. As the water streamed down between his shoulder blades, he promised himself that he would try to forget Draco now. He was getting married for Merlin’s sake and in two days time, he fully planned on being ridiculously sloshed and high at their engagement party, when Charlie would be there with his mushrooms. Ron washed his hair and his body, enjoying the hot water against his skin. It steamed up the mirror in the bathroom and the glass walls surrounding the shower. Once he was done, he stepped out, throwing a white towel haphazardly around his waist. Ron hadn’t brought clothes with him in the bathroom, figuring he would just hop into some when he got into his bedroom.

He thought about playing chess to pass the hours or try out more of that Nintendo Harry had gifted him. Ron was so caught up in his own thoughts, he got the shock of his life almost dropping the towel when he saw Draco Malfoy standing in front of his bed. Ron froze on the threshold of his bedroom, suddenly a little too aware of how naked he was.

Both their eyes widened in surprise.

“What are you doing here?!” Ron exclaimed, hearing himself how brainless he sounded.

For a moment, Draco seemed to be at a loss for words. Then he frowned. “Weasley, put something on, will you?”

Ron blinked, almost wondering if he was dreaming. He couldn’t move. Draco sighed and forced Ron’s wardrobe doors open, soon tossing him both a t-shirt and a pair of trousers. He looked politely away while Ron dressed in silence.

“I got your Patronus,” Draco said once Ron was done.

“Oh. Well… I’m glad you came.” Ron threw the wet towel on the carpeted floor and walked over to the bed. He flopped down on it and couldn’t help the smile creeping up over his features. “Did you Apparate into my bedroom?”

“Of course not, don’t be stupid, Weasley. But you were in mine today so thought I’d check out yours. It’s only fair.” For a short moment, Ron saw a bit of the old Draco again, a smirk showing on his face before it disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared. “Anyhow, I am not entirely sure why I am here. I do not have anything to say, Weasley. Other than…” Draco’s eyes fell on the large photograph Ron and Hermione had on the wall over the headboard. His voice faded away. The photo was taken on a vacation they’d had in Spain last year and they were smiling widely to the camera. Ron had his arms lovingly around Hermione’s shoulders and the happy, relaxed look on his face told nothing of his true feelings. That he’d felt like shit that day, how he’d spent most of the day crying in their hotel room because of Fred. How his anxiety had raced through his body the entire journey because he got drunk before they took the Portkey to their resort and sent about twenty letters to Draco. _Twenty. _He’d felt so utterly desperate and weak. Ron didn’t know why he bothered with his ex-boyfriend. It had all been a lie anyway, hadn’t it?

_Because you still bloody love him. You pretend you don’t, but you so fucking do._

“Granger takes care of you,” Draco said finally, his silver eyes still looking at the photo. “She’s good for you. Congratulations on your engagement, Weasley.”

“Stop it. Look, I don’t know what you’re here for, Malfoy, if you don’t plan on saying anything.” Ron shot up from his sitting position, feeling moody. He shot Draco a dirty look. “You just torment me with fucking just standing there all quiet. We had something. It might’ve meant nothing to you, but it sure as hell meant _everything _to me. Before e-everything. I fucking —“

Ron didn’t get to finish his sentence.

Draco, who had been standing in front of him just seconds ago on a respectful distance, swiftly closed the gap between them and cupped Ron’s face in his hands. Ron could barely react, could barely grasp what was happening until his lips were captured in a kiss. It was the type of desperate kiss people only shared when they knew there could be nothing more between them. It was wet and harsh and familiar. Ron parted his lips without thinking, suddenly thrown back to when they were fifteen and spent every moment they could snogging in secluded corners all over the school. He felt fingertips sink into his thick hair and he wrapped his own arms around Draco’s thin frame. They fell backwards onto the bed with Draco sprawled on top of him.

“I hate you, Weasley,” Draco hissed when they parted for air. He rolled off him and rose to his feet. “I just want you to forget me. Move on, is that such a hard thing for you to do? You sent me letters, you approach me in the street while I’m out, you approach me at the pub… I worked hard forgetting you. I worked hard to get myself away from you emotionally and back to what we used to be. You are not about to destroy all that for me. Get married. Live your life. Granger wouldn’t be happy if she knew I just had my tongue shoved down your throat. Idiot.”

With that being said, Draco walked out.

Ron bolted out of bed then, calling for him in desperation, wanted him to stay. But for the second time that day, Draco was already gone once he reached the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry, this took so long! Life's been crazy busy with so much going on. But anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. <3 It was a little hard for me to write.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Ron have their chess match. 
> 
> ******
> 
> This chapter has been amazingly beta'd by KoraKunkel. Thank you so much! Also, thank you for brilliant ideas and suggestions and a special thanks to Gcgraywriter for the idea of a good prize in the chess match and SonnenFlower for also providing suggestions. =)

_Hogwarts 1995_

Weasley took two steps at a time to reach the top of the narrow tower. He held a battered chess set under one arm and the Firewhisky in the other, in which he also held his wand used for light. Draco panted, following along the best he could.

“Why a tower?” He questioned, glaring at the redhead behind his back. “There’s plenty of abandoned classrooms.”

“I like the view,” Ron answered simply, seemingly unaffected with the effort of climbing so high up into the castle. “Plus nobody will find us here. No one ever comes here except me.”

Draco narrowed his eyes as they continued their journey upwards. “And why do you come here?”

Ron looked over his shoulder, blue eyes sparkling. “Like I said. The view.”

“It’s claustrophobic in here.”

Draco wrinkled his nose disapprovingly. They had agreed to meet by the dusty knight armors up in the third-floor corridor after detention was over. Ron had dashed to the Gryffindor common room with all the speed of a Seeker on a Firebolt and was back so fast with the chess set and Firewhisky that Draco almost wondered if he knew Apparition, which was a ridiculous thought.

Not that he was complaining though. The knights in their dirty, unpolished armors freaked him out a bit.

Ron barked a laugh at Draco’s words. “Scared, Malfoy?” There was something teasing in his tone.

“Don’t you wish I was?” Draco drawled cooly in response.

“I know you are.”

Draco chose not to answer that. They continued to walk in silence for what felt like forever until they came to a wooden door. Ron opened it with a simple _Alohomora_ spell and walked in first.

The tower was bigger than Draco had expected, now that they were at the very top. He had never been in this part of the castle before, and he realised what he was now looking at was a very… shoddy room. 

There wasn’t any furniture, the dark wooden floorboards were dirty and Draco wasn’t fond of unclean spaces. A light draught pushed in from a crack in the small window. He could hear the wind rattling outside; there was another snowstorm going on, and it chilled the already frigid room further. Ron hurried about, lighting candles with his wand and a yellow-orange glow soon filled the space. He moved so easily within these walls.

“This should do it. Now we’re able to see what we’re doing,” Ron said and pocketed his wand.

Draco couldn’t help sneering as he scanned the room. “Where’s this view you were talking about?”

Ron raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You serious? The window.” He jerked his head towards it as if Draco was incredibly dense and didn’t understand that one had to use a window to be able to look outside.

Draco eyed Ron with a pinched expression. “Yes…” he said, impatiently and very slowly so he wouldn’t lose it and say something he knew he would regret. “I am aware of that, Weasley. But it’s _small._”

“So? The view’s incredible.”

“I see that,” Draco replied sarcastically.

Ron laughed. “Well, obviously not now! Can’t open the fucking window, can we? Unless we want to freeze to death, that is. Nah, you’ll just have to take my word for it, mate.” He dropped down to his knees on the floor and started setting up the chessboard, placing the Firewhisky next to it.

“Black or white?” He asked.

“White,” Draco answered easily, dropping to his knees too so he sat across from Ron. “They always go first.”

“Colour of defeat, eh? Suits you.” Ron gave a playful smirk to him. There was a fire burning in his blue eyes.

The redhead looked determined. Challenging. His eyes shone so brightly in the light of the candles and Draco was sure he had never seen eyes that blue ever before.

_And it was kind of…_

“Your eyes… They are so… blue,” Draco blurted dumbly before he could stop himself. _What the hell was he thinking?!_

He hated how distracted he suddenly was by them. And not only them. Ron’s calloused hands were almost equally as distracting, much to Draco’s chagrin, when his gaze turned to them. They were large and freckled and rough, and he felt transfixed as they moved quickly across the board to set the chess pieces in their place. He didn’t even have a witty comeback for the insult Ron had thrown his way, Draco was that distracted.

Weasley must have done something to him. This was _not_ normal.

“Yeah? Yours are super pale.” Ron shot him a small smile. What was concerning though, was how genuine it was. 

_Weasley, don’t smile like that. Please._

“All right...” Ron said after he was finished with the setup. He gestured to the board where the chess pieces stood, waiting for the game to begin. ”What d’you say about these rules, Malfoy? Pawns are worth one-fourth of a shot, bishops and knights half a shot, rooks one-shot, queen one and a half-shot and the king two-shots. Each time I take out one of your chess pieces, you drink. Same goes for me when you take out one of mine.” Ron dug in his pocket, taking out two small cups he put next to the Firewhisky.

“Splendid,” Draco drawled. “And what do I get when I win, Weasley?”

“Depends on what you want, Malfoy,” Ron said leaning forward a bit. He raised his coppery eyebrows. “Remember, winner gets something he really, really wants.”

_Like you naked on toast? _Draco shook his head to rid himself of the surprisingly dirty thought.

_This is Weasley you’re thinking of Draco. Dirt poor, annoying, ginger-haired, freckled Weasley._

_Alluring, blue-eyed, well-muscled Weasley._

_Fuck._

“The loser can’t deny the winner at all?” Draco asked. His mind was reeling, he couldn’t breathe when Weasley was this close or studying him like that. Ron seemed incredibly oblivious to what was happening -what he made Draco feel.

“Not at all,” said Ron in a voice full of determination.

Draco leant forward too, his grey eyes glinting in a mix of malice, mischief and competition.

“Great… _Ron._”

Ron pulled back, smiling. “First names? That desperate? Okay… _Draco._”

Draco huffed in irritation, he had used Ron’s given name to try and throw him off guard, but it, apparently, hadn’t worked. Ron still had the look of defiance in his eyes, and his face still irritated Draco to no end because Weasley was somewhat attractive and Weasleys could _not_ be attractive. What was wrong with him?

Ron poured them a shot of the Firewhisky each, handing one cup over to Draco. “Good luck,” he said with a small, confident smirk. “May the best player win.”

“I intend to.” Draco smirked back, arching his eyebrow.

***

Saying Weasley was good at Wizarding chess was a fucking understatement, Draco realised, after about twenty minutes into the game. The chess pieces obeyed Ron’s every command without so much as a whisper of a protest, whereas Draco’sseemed mostly irritated with him. One of the two bishops complained and refused to move, setting Draco’s teeth on edge.

Ron laughed as he took out Draco’s chess pieces one by one and Draco’s mind got more and more addled the more liquor he poured into his mouth. It soon became obvious that he was the drunker of the two, although Ron wasn’t far behind. Draco had managed to get a few of his good chess pieces taken out but the infuriating redhead still had the upper hand.

“Weasley, give up,” Draco said drunkenly, downing another shot and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He eyed him with hazy eyes. “Give up. I win. I want my prize.”

“Nah, nah.” Ron waved his hand dismissively, “You’re in the bottom centre. I’ll win, I’m gonna win.”

“Cute.” 

Ron snorted, and moments later, it was all over.

“Checkmate.” Ron made the last move and won the game.

“Beat you,” he said triumphantly. “Looks like I’m the one who gets to pick my prize.”

“And what do you want then?” Draco leant forward over the chessboard, not minding the chess pieces shouting in protest as they repaired themselves. He was too close to Ron and too drunk to care.

“I don’t know…” Ron mumbled, watching Draco’s mouth with slightly parted lips. “You, maybe…” His lips were wet and glistening, his eyes slipped shut, and Draco leant forward, ready to give in to Ron’s request. He was so damn close, and —

“Malfoy?”

“Huh?” Draco blinked.

“Something wrong?” Ron worriedly scanned Draco’s face. “You sorta look like you need to puke.”

Draco shook his head and sat up straight, trying to get in touch with his brain. They were still in the tower, and he thanked Salazar’s favourite basilisk he wasn’t currently trying to snog the living daylights out of the youngest Weasley boy. It was only his imagination playing tricks on him.

Ron had just won the game, and the chess pieces had already started repairing themselves on the battered chessboard. Draco was dizzy; the Firewhisky seemed to have addled his brain in more ways than he liked. Ron poured them two more shots.

“So, what do you want then?” Draco said airily, trying to focus on something else rather than the moisture on Ron’s lips. “Make it quick, Weasley, I haven’t got all night.”

_Unless you say you want me, then I will certainly have all night- Where the hell do all these disgusting thoughts come from?!_

He wanted to scream.

Ron chewed on his lip. “I knew what I wanted from you before coming here. You’re not gonna like it.”

“I’m sure.” Draco pressed his lips tightly together, though he couldn’t stop the slight flutter in his stomach at the idea that Ron had been thinking about him.

Ron’s eyes twinkled in the light of the torches. Something devious was playing in them. “I want you to be my slave for a full week.”

Draco glared, crossing his arms over his chest. “No.”

“We made a deal,” Ron said poignantly. “If you won I couldn’t say no to you and vice versa.” He gestured to the chessboard. “I just took down your king, Malfoy. I won over you. Besides, you seemed to like it enough when you said I was your king back on the Quidditch pitch, remember? Now you’re gonna treat me like I am for seven days. Do everything and anything I ask for. After that, we’re even for when you tried to give me all the blame for when we got detention. We go back to our separate lives and pretend none of this ever happened.”

Draco sucked in air firmly through his nostrils. So Weasley was still holding a grudge for the situation back in professor Snape’s office? _Son of a…_

“And what, exactly, happens if I refuse, Weasley?”

“I’ll hex you.” Ron eyed him with a dead serious expression, all signs of any previous drunkenness were gone. Draco felt strangely sober too, and very tired.

However, at Ron’s words, he couldn’t help the mean little smile creeping up over his features. “Hex me? That will work out so well for you, I’m sure. You are not talented enough to do such a thing. What on earth are you going to do this time, give yourself brain damage? Though I suppose it wouldn’t be much different, would it?”

Danger flashed in Ron’s blue eyes. Before Draco could react, Ron had reached for his wand and pointed it straight to Draco’s throat. “I’ve got a new wand, Malfoy. I’m not twelve anymore, and I know new spells.” Ron raised his eyebrows. “So. Slave for a week. You agreed before we started playing. I won fair and square.” The tip of his wand dug into the thin skin of Draco’s neck. He swallowed thickly and Ron held the wand there for a moment longer, before drawing back and pocketing the wand again. He gave Draco a less dangerous, yet serious, expression. “Besides, I’m not you. I’m not gonna ask for anything weird. So you can calm down.”

Draco was still glaring. No fucking way he was sinking so low that he would suck up to the Weasel like that. With his arms still crossed tightly over his chest, he said, “I want to play again. Best out of three.”

Ron snorted. “Why? Think I just got lucky, do you?”

“Perhaps. Let’s double it. Pawns are half a shot instead of a fourth, bishops and knights one instead of a half and so on… What do you say? If you’re still the best player after that, I’ll be your slave for a full week. If I win…”

“I’ll do what you want.”

“Yes, you will.” Draco’s silver eyes were lightened with competition once again.

“Thing is though… I don’t want to play again. I won. You agreed to the terms before playing.”

“I disagree now.”

Ron laughed. “Of course you do. If you’ve won over me, you wouldn’t have wanted to play again, so I don’t want that either.”

“Let’s play something else then,” Draco huffed. “Or better yet, let’s have a broom race.”

“In the middle of the night in a fucking snowstorm?” Ron smiled, and there it was again. That real, genuine smile that involuntarily had started to make Draco very weak in the knees. He couldn’t understand how that was possible when Weasley was so damn irritating.

“Yes.”

“Nope. We’ll get caught.”

Ron was already tucking away the chess pieces in a storage box underneath the board. “Sorry, Malfoy. I don’t wanna play anymore. I won.” When he stood up, he swayed a little. Draco wondered how drunk the redhead really was. Ron had just as much Firewhisky as him.

Draco knew his own head spun now too. Especially since in his hazy mind, he kept wondering how Ron’s big hands would feel on his body. If it would be anything like Nott’s or different or…

_Shit. Nott._

Draco had forgotten the Slytherin boy had wanted to meet up after the detention to ‘celebrate’. He had chosen Weasley over his old childhood friend. Weasley. Just the thought made him shudder.

Ron held out his hand, offering to help Draco up. Draco’s body betrayed him when he obeyed without a thought. Weasley’s hand was warm to the touch despite it being so cold in the dimly lit tower room. Once Draco got to his feet, he got a taste of how drunk he really was too. The whole room was spinning. He was the drunker of the two and couldn’t maintain his balance. Mortifyingly, he fell forward and landed face-first into Ron’s chest. The surprising softness of his second-hand jumper felt strangely comforting, as well as the smell. Weasley apparently had some kind of special scent, and it wasn’t disgusting as Draco would have suspected, had it been just a few years ago. It smelt like safety, comfort, home.

Sinking low by slaving for Weasley or not, Draco couldn’t stop himself. He nosed against Ron’s jumper, up against the side of his neck. Unconsciously, he pressed his lips against the warm skin to plant a wet, drunken kiss.

Ron immediately tensed and answered by shoving him - hard. A second later, Draco found himself lying on his back on the solid stone floor, back aching from the fall. He looked up to see Ron bent over him, glaring more than ever, with his face stained a very angry shade of red.

“What the hell?” The redhead hissed. “What’d you do that for?!”

“Do what?” Draco glared back.

“You kissed me!” Ron looked disgusted. “You fucking kissed me! What the hell’s wrong with you?!” 

Draco wasn’t really sure. He screwed up his face in embarrassment and pain. He might have been drunk, but he wasn’t drunk enough not to feel any mortification. He wanted to deny it ever happening, but found himself speechless.

A few long seconds of awkward silence passed and Ron offered his hand again. His blue eyes still shot daggers, but it didn’t stop him from helping Draco up from the floor.

“Look, you’re drunk. I’m drunk,” he said with a simple shrug when Draco reluctantly took it and rose to his feet again. Ron’s expression had softened a little as he sought Draco’s gaze. “Weird stuff happens, it’s okay. Dunno about you, but I’m not gay, so…” Ron’s face coloured further, something Draco didn’t know was possible. “Just… I reckon we should both go to bed now. How ’bout we meet up tomorrow and…” Ron licked his lips. “And we’ll talk about what I want you to do for me. I mean it, Malfoy. Slave for a week. That’s what I won and you owe me. Otherwise, I… might tell people about this. Tell Parkinson, your girlfriend, if you remember?”

“Nobody would believe you. You’re you and I’m… me.” Draco’s voice didn’t sound as convincing as he would have liked and it wavered a little when he spoke. Somehow he’d also forgotten he was technically, or at least to the eyes of the public, dating Pansy Parkinson. “I’d get you in trouble like that, Weasley. Umbridge. She wouldn’t take to kindly to how you-”

“How I what?” Ron’s face inched closer, daring him to finish his sentence.

Draco fell silent. Their hands were still entwined and he silently wondered why Ron hadn’t let him go yet. Their palms were starting to get sweaty. The redhead seemed to realise too, and he let go quickly then as if he’d burnt himself.

“That’s what I thought. We’ll meet here tomorrow right after breakfast. I’ll let you know the first thing I want from you then.”

Ron left Draco before he could react. He descended the stairs quickly and left him without a word. Draco’s heart was beating harshly in his chest, and despite the cold in the room, he felt hot in the face and very nervous. It took him a few minutes to gather himself before he could retain his usual demeanour, exiting the room too.

***

It took Draco a while to get back to the Slytherin common room in the dungeons. The hour was very late, it was well past midnight, and he had to sneak his way through to avoid Filch, Peeves or any of the professors. Draco muttered the password and almost immediately stared into a pair of hazel eyes as the stone scraped shut behind him.

“Been waiting for you,” Nott said in a low voice. “That was a remarkably long detention, that last one.”

“Shut up,” Draco snapped, but without heat. He was very, very glad he couldn’t see himself in the mirror. Otherwise, he would have seen his wild eyes, pink cheeks and slightly mussed white-blond hair that he had got from being thrown on the floor.

The Slytherin common room was surprisingly empty given it was Friday night; it was usually packed with people in various stages of drunkenness at this point. 

Theodore reached for him, but Draco swatted his hands away. He made to go to the boys’ dorms, confident enough to know he was being followed by Theodore. Instead of going there though, Draco made a turn and headed for a small, secluded bathroom stall he knew was almost always empty. Draco walked in first and Theodore’s breath on the nape of his neck made him shudder.

“Missed you,” Theodore breathed against Draco’s soft skin once the door closed behind them and privacy spells were put up. His hands were on the front of Draco’s body, seeking permission to go beneath his shirt. Draco leant his head back against Theodore’s shoulder and enjoyed the other boy’s soft kisses on his temple and in his hair. He closed his eyes. Draco’s ears were ringing and he was light-headed. He was confused and tired and didn’t know what he wanted, except…

“Have you been drinking?” Theodore asked softly, frowning. “You smell like Firewhisky. How’d you manage to do that in detention, Draco?”

Draco’s mood soured. He turned to Theodore and put some space between them. “Don’t ask questions.”

Nott’s hands trailed down Draco’s sides, before pulling him close again. They stood quiet for a few moments in the confined space and Draco let Theodore hold him, listening to his heartbeat. Cuddling wasn’t something he had wanted but then again, he wasn’t really sure what he wanted.

“Okay,” Theodore whispered against his hair. “I won’t, but I’m not sure I get it. We had a thing… At the party. I thought you didn’t want me anymore. And today — What made you change your mind?”

_Weasley._

Draco, of course, didn’t say that. He couldn’t say that. Nott wouldn’t get it, and to be fair, Draco didn’t either.

So he didn’t answer. Instead, Draco kissed Theodore, pinning him to the wall. He closed his eyes when their lips met, when he invited Theodore’s tongue inside his mouth. The other boy’s mouth was warm and wet and Draco did absolutely not at all fantasise about red hair, blue eyes and a freckle-splattered face as he kissed him.

Not at all.

***

Draco went to sleep that night with a body aching from touching and a slightly fuzzy mind. In the morning, he remembered his deal with Weasley and groaned, tossing back his head against the pillow after lifting it to check the time on the expensive wristwatch he’d put on the bedside table. He didn’t want to see him again, and he certainly did not want to follow his every whim for seven fucking days.

Obviously Weasley was more than a little insane.

Blaise Zabini’s dark eyes were glinting deviously when Draco ripped the green curtains to his four-poster open and smirked when his eyes fell on Draco’s throat. He was sitting on his bed, putting on a pair of black socks over his feet.

“Who’s given you such a fine bruise, Draco?” He asked, nodding to Draco’s neck.

_I keep telling him not to leave any marks._

“Your mother,” Draco sneered, rubbing the back of his head. He had a headache and a bloody hangover and didn’t feel like putting up with Blaise Zabini at all.

“Mm, right,” the dark-skinned boy drawled before scoffing and shaking his head. “My mother is in Paris with husband number seven at the moment. Seriously, Draco, do tell. You weren’t in the common room yesterday. Haven’t seen you much around lately. Busy?” He quirked a black eyebrow, standing to button up his impeccable dark shirt. It was a slim fit and stuck to his figure perfectly. There was no doubt Zabini was incredibly handsome; all the Slytherin girls were pining after him.

Draco smirked, reaching for his clothes too. He had haphazardly thrown them on the chair beside his bed the night before. “Ah, yes and for how long will that marriage last? Will husband number seven also face a mysterious fate? He’s a millionaire, isn’t he?”

“Of course he is.” Zabini raised his eyebrows. “Mother wouldn’t settle for anything less.”

“And nor should she.” Draco stood. He opened his trunk to pull out a new shirt and a new pair of trousers, underwear and socks. He charmed yesterday’s clothing to fold themselves into a neat pile on his bed, knowing the house-elves would take care of them to be washed later on. Draco had always enjoyed the feeling of a new shirt, all starched with a clean scent and not a single spot in sight. A new shirt meant a new beginning, leaving the past behind. He grimaced inwardly, not knowing exactly what he meant by that, but it sounded poetic. He made sure to button it up all the way to the collar - something he felt was very important. Draco turned his back to Zabini and bent down to pull up his trousers and put on socks.

“You didn’t answer my question, Draco,” Zabini continued in a tone that indicated boredom. “What have you been up to lately? Considering that lovely mark on your throat…” Blaise narrowed his eyes as if he was trying to decipher Draco’s mysteries.

“I thought Parkinson would have told you by now,” Draco said, putting a comb through his white-blond hair. “Professor Snape gave me detention with the Weasel. I had my last one yesterday evening.”

“Oh, I knew about that,” Blaise grinned maliciously. “What I’m wondering is… What were you up to last night? I happen to know Snape did not keep you there that late. You didn’t continue to spend the rest of the evening with Weasel, did you? That would be most peculiar… I know Pansy didn’t give you that little mark.” Blaise’s dark eyes scanned Draco’s face in a way that made him want to squirm.

“Certainly not,” Draco snapped. “Why the hell would I do that? I would not sink so low as to spend my valuable time with a peasant. Idiot.”

Blaise grinned and Draco chose to ignore him, draping a scarf around his neck. He then stepped into his shiny black shoes and exited the boy’s dorms to head up for breakfast.

Theodore Nott was nowhere to be seen in the common room, and Draco was glad for it. He didn’t want to deal with him right now. The kisses, touching and ragged breaths were still playing in his mind and he didn’t know how to deal with it.

Nott seemed enamoured, which Draco absolutely wasn’t anymore. It was amazing how fast that had changed after the Slytherin party. It felt like a whole lifetime ago now.

The Great Hall was filled with tired students with their hair in disarrays and the usual loud buzzing was quieter. Half of the people sitting by the tables looked like they were still asleep. Draco sauntered up to Pansy, who was eating a toast by the Slytherin table. Nott sat opposite her, not meeting Draco’s gaze as he plopped down beside Pansy. She, on the other hand, turned to him, squeezing his arm.

“Dray,” she smiled. “Theodore said you’re done with detention now. I’m so very glad, darling. Perhaps you and I could spend the day together?” Her fingers kept rubbing over his arm, it was irritating and Draco wished she would stop. Nott kept promptly staring down his plate, pretending he didn’t see Pansy’s light caresses.

“Unfortunately, I have a few things to do,” Draco answered her, looking overtop Nott’s shoulder to the Gryffindor table. He knew Pansy was pouting, and he ignored her. Weasley, Potter and Granger were sitting closely together; Ron was currently busy with overstuffing his plate. Granger had her back turned to Draco so he couldn’t see her face, yet he imagined her scrunching up her nose in disgust as Weasley made a show of stuffing food into his mouth and chewing without closing it.

Draco kept staring as if bewitched. In his now sober, slightly hungover state, it seemed so peculiar that he found Weasley attractive yesterday. He even thought about him while he was in the small cubicle with Nott, doing things no one in their right mind would want to fantasise doing with Weasley. His Slytherin mates would eat him alive if they knew. He wanted to sink through the stone floor as he remembered the weird kiss he placed on the side of Weasley’s neck too. Ron must have put something in the Firewhisky. It just wasn’t normal.

_’The thought about his attractiveness did cross your mind before that, you know.’_The voice in his mind reminded him. Draco scowled.

“Ron, for heaven’s sake! Please stop eating like a troll!” Granger snapped. Her overly shrill voice carried loudly in the Hall and her brown bushy hair stood in all directions.

Draco heard Ron huff something in mild irritation; he didn’t seem nearly as irritated as Draco might have thought the ill-tempered redhead would be though.

_And that was fucking annoying._

Not that Draco liked bad manners. He was rather disgusted with the way Weasley behaved by the breakfast table.

The whole school could see Weasley fancied Granger. Draco had suspected it for years himself but he’d never been bothered by it before. It had been quite the opposite - he had thought it was rather funny. The Weasel and the boring, plain, bookish girl with too-large-teeth. Or, at least, they had been too large before. What a pathetic couple they would be. People like that deserved each other.

_So why can’t I just… not care?_

Draco was obviously getting ill. Yes, that must be the case. He ate fast while trying to follow his Slytherin friends' conversations. Pansy was whining about something and she was turned to Millicent Bulstrode, completely ignoring Draco now. He supposed his lack of responses finally must have made her give up. He occasionally shot glances over at the Gryffindor table, albeit carefully to avoid funny looks from his classmates. They tended to be very… perceptive.

Nott, on the other hand, was looking puzzled. “What are you doing today, Malfoy?” He asked. There was an unmistakable hint of bitterness in his voice.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Draco smirked to him, wiping off his mouth with a napkin. “In any case, I’d love to stick around and chat, but I need to go… I will see you later.” He nodded to the others and left the Great Hall without any further stalling. Draco was feeling a bit better, a bit less hangover. At least that was a comforting thought.

Weasley was still at the table, annoying Granger to no end by shoveling more food into his large piehole. Draco thought it was best to leave before he did and be inside the tower before him.

His stomach quivered somewhat with anticipation. Draco knew he was a talented wizard, Ron wouldn’t be able to stand a chance against him if he ever were to hex him. He wasn’t worried about that; he was only curious what Weasley had in mind.

_It’s not that I want to see him again. Not at all._

***

“You actually showed up.”

Ron smiled a little, closing the door behind him. Draco was leaning against one wall in the tower room, arms folded over his chest and a large scowl spread over his face.

“I’ve waited twenty minutes, Weasley.”

“How did that feel?” Ron grinned at him now, which was infuriating. Draco wanted to slap him.

“What the hell do you want, Weasley? I have things to do today.”

“All right…” Ron said, walking across the room to open up the small window. “Firstly, I wanna show you the incredible view. You didn’t believe me yesterday, so… there’s no snowstorm out today.”

“I didn’t come all the way up here to look at some damn view!”

“No, that’s just a bonus,” said Ron and laughed. He opened the window, letting the cold air inside. “Look.” He took a firm hold of Draco’s wrist and dragged him over to the open window. Draco’s skin broke out in goosebumps and he didn’t have time to think over Weasley’s move or that it might have been considered a bit strange that Ron took him by the wrist.

_Like yesterday when he held my hand a little too long…_

“View.” Ron let go of Draco immediately once he was in front of the window. He pointed and stepped back, letting Draco take in the surroundings by himself.

Weasley hadn’t been lying. It really was a remarkable sight.

Draco was looking at the Hogwarts grounds. He could see all the greenery, now sprinkled with a thick layer of snow, the mountains, the Great lake and people walking in the almost untouched snow on the ground. He could see Hagrid, busy tinkering with something outside of his small, shoddy hut.

The sky was clear and light blue; a perfect winter’s day.

“Beautiful,” Draco murmured before he could stop himself.

“Told you.” Draco couldn’t see Weasley from where he stood, but he heard the smile in his voice. “Now, Malfoy, as for the other thing I want from you…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry! I accidentally left this fic on pause for over a month! A lot has happened- I've been sick a lot, and just dealing with life-stuff in general and various fests I've been taking part in! I hope you've enjoyed the chapter though and that it was worth the wait. :D


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